


Broken Things (we are)

by bitterbones



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dark Rey, Dream Sex, F/M, First Time, Fix-It, Light Ben, Loss of Virginity, Naked Female Clothed Male, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post TROS, Semi clothed sex, Smut, Soulmates, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vague Descriptions of Childbirth, World Between Worlds, eventual happily ever after, force ghost Ben Solo (kind of), kid fic (kind of), they are a dyad in the force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-19 13:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterbones/pseuds/bitterbones
Summary: One year post Exegol, Ben and Rey are circling endlessly. Tortured by grief, Rey dreams of ghosts while Ben grapples to extract himself from a world in-between. The Force has not yet found balance, but balance is what it demands.*“I miss you.” She whispered.His smile never faltered and he extended one of his bloody, broken hands, “I’m right here, nothing to miss. I’ll always be right here.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 591
Kudos: 964
Collections: JustAnotherSailorScout's Reylo Rec List





	1. Dreamers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my username on this website used to be bitterbones. I thought I was pretty much done with Reylo then that dumpster fire of a film dropped and now I am inspired once more. **Edit: I got my old username back, woot!**
> 
> I'm taking strong liberties with the 'world between worlds', and what the force can do. I hope no ones minds (nothing on JJs level of mockery ofc). 
> 
> This chapter may be a *tad* confusing but that is by design, things will become more clear as we go <3

He was trapped somewhere, lingering in between the light and the dark. All around him the force pushed and pulled, waves over his body. He didn't think he was breathing, but his heart was beating. It thundered in his ears, throbbed behind his eyes. Body aching, he grit his teeth and tried to twist to his feet. But the space was strange, and he could find no solid purchase. 

  
  


Eyes sealed shut, he began to panic. Hands on his back, small but firm, held him down. From their fingertips pulsed a calming energy, and his muscles fell slack. Something like sleep overtook him, though it was thicker and less natural. Where sleep was clean and soothed the mind, this stupor led him to unpleasant places. Old memories. 

  
  


He had forgotten who he was, until he heard a familiar voice through the blackness. 

  
  


“Ben.” It was gruff, careless, yet behind those things lurked affection. 

  
  


An image began to take shape before him, a scenario about to unfold.  _ Ben _ ? That was right, Ben. His name was Ben Solo.

  
  


...But who was Ben Solo?

  
  


His hands were very small, still chubby with youth, gripping the controls of a ship. He heard himself laugh, as though he were a simple voyeur upon the moment. Then he  _ was _ laughing, real, bubbly little laughs that a child would make. He felt warm, happy. Why were those things so foreign?

  
  


“Come on, now.” The voice said, and rough hands lifted the boy out of the pilots chair. Calloused and warm, Han Solo hoisted his son onto his hip, “How’d you even get in here?” 

  
  


Dark eyes glanced nervously around the cockpit. Ben giggled again, his vocabulary wasn’t developed enough to explain. But Ben raised his hands with pride anyways. It was easy to open and close things with his hands, even heavy hatches like that on the belly of the freighter. 

  
  


Han quirked a brow at his son, then smiled like he smiled for no one else. Ben smiled back.

  
  


“Come on, kid.” The smuggler ducked out of the cockpit, Ben held tight to him, “Your mom is waiting on us. Dinnertime.” 

  
  


Ben stuck his tongue out. Dinner meant vegetables. He didn’t like vegetables. 

  
  


_ Mom _ ? He thought, once more finding himself disjointed from the scene unfolding. He was being carried by Han Solo, but also he was a silent spectator to a father and son. They looked… he didn’t know. Something inside him ached when he tried to think too deeply on it. 

  
  


So he watched and was the boy, Ben Solo, who was being carried by Han Solo to  _ Mom _ .

  
  


Who is she? Who am I? What is this place? He wanted to ask these things, but the lips of a child had not the ability to voice them. 

  
  


Han Solo carried him out of the  _ Falcon— _ the name of the ship came to him unbidden— and out onto a field of rolling grass. The blades were knee high in some places and speckled with little white wildflowers. Ben’s tiny hand reached for them, but his arms were too short. 

  
  


The corner of his father’s mouth quirked, and he knelt, jostling his son but never letting go. In a large, oil stained hand he gathered a tiny bouquet of blooms, then passed them to his son.

_ Where are we that flowers grow? _ Ben wanted to ask, but the boy howling with joy, only chomped down on the petals. The cries of amusement morphed into cries of terror as he quickly discovered their bitterness. Ben tasted them too, and winced. 

  
  


Han laughed as the boy sputtered and spat and wiped at his tongue. 

  
  


He wheezed, but his grip on his child never wavered. The sun caught in his hair and eyes, revealing the golden highlights behind their shadow as he laughed. There were the beginnings of crows feet wrinkling at the corners of those gentle eyes, and Ben felt a pang of sourceless guilt. Then something else, affection. Maybe love.

  
  


“Oh kid— I— that was  _ good _ .” He ruffled his son’s hair, even in the light of the setting sun it was black as jet. The boy pouted. Ben Solo, who both was the boy and was not, looked on confusedly. 

  
  


Surely this place was not real. The child was him, and the man was his father, but he didn’t recognize them. It stirred no sense of nostalgia to see these flowers, the verdant fields, the sparkling lakes. The pair were moving steadily towards a small manor, now. It was made from white stone, quarried from some for off planet, no doubt. A droid was sweeping the porch, a servant wiping the panes of glass which comprised a set of grand bay doors. 

  
  


Looking back, Ben saw the fields, and the  _ Falcon _ and those lakes that could not be real. In the distance was the glitter of something else entirely, a city. The highest spires of Hanna city.

Capital of Chandrila. 

  
  


Like the  _ Millenium Falcon _ , it rang familiar. 

  
  


“What’re you looking at, Ben?” Han called his attention back to the manor and all its splendor. 

  
  


The child Ben offered as best an answer he could, “Da city.” 

  
  


This seemed to satisfy his father, who opened the door carefully so as not to bother the servant.

  
  


“Leia!” Han called out, voice echoing through the polished stone and finished wood of the house. Ben blinked at the splendor; tapestries and fine dishes set back in cupboards. There were ancient, steel weapons on display above a great, cold hearth. Many of them were of a similar style. 

  
  


_ Alderaan. _ Another nudge. 

  
  


Wherever Alderaan was, these things were collected from it. What did this Leia—

  
  


_ Oh. _

  
  


She came cascading down the stairs in a day gown of silk and cashmere. Swaths of light green fabric intermingled with those of creme and gold. Her hair was done up in a bun, wrapped in a spiralling braid. Lips painted red. Wide, brown eyes lined to make them shine. Leia Organa. 

  
  


_ Mom. _ This he knew, somewhere deep within himself he knew who this woman was. To look at her so young, vibrant and beautiful made him ache in a way he did not understand. He wanted to touch her, to ask her questions that he himself did not know. He wanted to cry. 

  
  


She smiled at him and he could only liken it to the stars on a cloudless night. He could have become lost in that smile. 

  
  


“Ben, baby, where’d you run off to?” She skipped over, despite the strappy shoes she wore. She was very short compared to dad, eye level with Ben. She pinched his cheek lightly, scowling when she found a flower petal on her fingertip. 

  
  


Han shrugged, “Somehow he made it all the way into the falcon. Must’ve picked some flowers on the way.” 

  
  


Sighing, she seemed to accept the explanation well enough, “Please get him ready quickly, our transport will be here any minute. I can’t be late to this dinner, the ambassador would have my head.” 

  
  


“Yes ma’am,” Han gave a mock bow and started for the stairs. Child Ben reached for his mother, whimpering for her. 

  
  


Just as they rounded a bend, Ben though he saw a flash of fear in Leia Organa’s eyes. 

  
  


Then the memory fell into place, like the corner piece of a sprawling puzzle from which a greater image might be constructed. 

  
  


_ My mother and father _ . 

  
  


The scene faded. Ben Solo stirred, grappling to return to that moment. He had been happy there, and though he did not know why, he knew he needed to find such happiness again. It had been rendered from him somehow, ripped away with such cruelty that he was now in this dark place once more. A place of echoes and blindness. In the distance, all around him, he heard muffled voices and muted sounds. The space between his body and their countless sources could be inches or eons, space and time commingled so perplexingly here. 

  
  


The blackness around him was thick. Viscous with a thousand thoughts and dreams all combining nonsensically. He still could not open his eyes. He wanted his happy dream back. He wanted little Ben held steady on Han’s hip. He wanted his mother; to see her vibrant in silks and satins. 

  
  


He wanted—

  
  


_ No. _ A different voice.  _ Not here, not now. Ben Solo, you must move forward, that is where your destiny lies. These are only memories, you must not linger in them longer than this place permits. _

  
  


“Why?” Ben croaked; his voice was hoarse, his throat raw. The sound echoed around him, weakening until it was nothing more than a quiet addition to the ceaseless din of voices and sounds. 

  
  


_ To linger is to remain _ . 

  
  


Why shouldn’t he remain? He only wanted to be happy, he only wanted belonging.

  
  


_ Forage ahead. Only there will you find answers. _ The voice beckoned softly, and he thought of Leia Organa again. 

  
  


His body ached all over; a deep, painful throb. A reminder of something perhaps. But he could not remember, he did not know. Ben shifted onto his side, eyes open now, but unseeing. 

  
  


“Okay.” 

  
  


It wasn’t like he had a choice. He was scattered in whatever this place was; like those little petals on the wind. Chewed and spat and swirling injured and endless. Whoever Ben Solo was, whatever had unfolded to bring him to this place, he would need to uncover it to be free. 

*

Tatooine, for all its mirage and searing sun, often fell cold once it’s twin stars sank below the horizon. Rey watched them from the doorway of her hut. It was old, sculpted from red earth into a small dome. Concerning cracks twisted around its foundations, but it wasn’t a permanent abode, so she didn’t bother with maintenance. 

  
  


There was no fresher, no kitchen. Only a basin of water— hard won in such a barren place— and a small cooktop where she made simple meals of portions. 

  
  


Hearing the distant cry of a raider, she slunk inside, sniffing at the dust which always permeated the air. 

  
  


Today she had made the hour long journey to Mos Eisley for supplies. All gathered through force trickery. A wave of her hand and she had a loaf of bread, a suggestion and she had a full water pouch. Perhaps it was cruel to take from those just scraping by, but she was a Jedi, and the Force had called her here for a higher purpose. Credits didn’t apply to her. 

  
  


Outside she could hear some sorry scavenger poking about. It didn’t worry her. The locals had learned well during her previous stays not to touch her things. Her x-wing would be safe. And if for some reason it wasn’t, she could acquire another easily. Perhaps she was too blazé in her brandishing of her powers, but as she saw it the Force was stringing her along endlessly. One place to the next. Her supplies were dwindling, and she had to keep herself alive somehow. 

  
  


Huffing, she undid her buns and hunched towards the side of her hut. She could only stand at full height near the center of the dome, which may have been an issue if she didn’t spend most of her time wandering the wastes… or sleeping. 

  
  


Already the sight of her cot was tantalizing. It was small, creaked whenever she turned, and covered in a thin blanket that made her itch; but what it offered far outweighed its insufficiencies. 

  
  


Shaking her head, she turned to the tiny cooktop, hastily throwing together some portions to pick at. She wasn’t really hungry, hadn’t been in a long time. Since Palpatine. A whole year living on scraps. It was only when she returned to visit her ex-Resistance cohorts that she was made aware of how ghastly she looked. All skin and bones, her eyes sunken and underlined with dark half-circles. So Rey tried to eat, but she never managed much. 

  
  


Tonight was the same. A few bites and she was through. The meal was unappetizing to begin with, gritty and bland. Canning it, she shuffled to her water basin, where she splashed her face and glanced herself in the mirror above. It was coated in a fine layer of red-orange dust which Rey cleared away with her hand. 

  
  


She still looked too thin. Thinner than she had ever been on Jakku, but the circles were mostly gone. A marked improvement in her eyes; perhaps when she next returned to the galactic core her friends wouldn’t hound her so relentlessly. 

  
  


Turning to her bed, she smiled weakly to herself. Despite the discomfort of her accommodations it was the highlight of her day, to lay her head down at night. No matter where she was in the galaxy she never minded the discomfort, and she had been to many places in the past year. 

  
  


The first time the Force led her to Tatooine, when she buried the Skywalker sabers, she had tried to stay in the remnants of the Lars homestead. It had felt all wrong. She had felt the ghosts that lingered there and, despite her assumed title, they had caused great disquiet in her. So she had fled to here. 

  
  


Crawling under the blanket, she used her arm as a makeshift pillow. Fibers scratched uncomfortably at her skin, some mornings she even woke up with a faint rash of irritation. She didn’t care, none of it mattered. 

  
  


Rey shut her eyes and breathed. Sleep came easy.

  
  


So did he. 

  
  


This was the only place she could find him, in her dreams. Here some of the trauma bled away, the pain of watching Ben Solo fade into nothing before her eyes, lips still tinglingly from their kiss. The dyad that they were forever shattered. Here, the guilt could be laid aside for a moment, and the wound his loss had left in her being throbbed less insistantly. 

  
  


Adrift on the waves of slumber, he appeared before her. Their surroundings were unclear, a swirl of greens and reds and oranges. Facing away from her, Rey appreciated the breadth of his shoulders, how the tight black shirt he wore clung to the musculature of his back. Once, she might have learned that form more intimately. 

  
  


“Ben.” She called out to his ghost. Every night that he came to her they danced this same dance. Rey followed the steps gladly, anything to be near to him once more. They would walk, talk themselves in confounding circles, but never touch. It was beautiful. Even if it wasn’t real. 

  
  


“It’s real.” Ben said, turning to face her. 

  
  


He looked like he had on Exegol; filthy and bleeding. But his eyes were wide, dark, and alive as a spectre’s could be. Under his gaze she shivered, it was wild. He had always looked at her with intensity and conviction… maybe even love. In his final moments… Rey shook her head, not allowing herself to remember. 

  
  


Around them the world began to steady, and the humming jungle of Takodana began to take shape. The worlds these liaisons took place upon never had much sense to them. Rey suspected they were selected randomly from her memory. Wet leaves slapped strangely under her feet as she closed the distance between them. It had rained recently in this dream. In the distance, beyond the verdant canopy, she could see the peaking spires of Maz’s castle. 

  
  


“Rey.” Ben smiled at her when she stopped in front of him. The same wide, handsome grin he had smiled before he had dropped to the floor in front of her. Pain echoed dully in her chest, and Rey was grateful that she could not recall it with its full vicerality here.

  
  


“We do this every night, Ben.” She said, plainly, knowing he wouldn’t remember. This Ben was a ghost, after all. She couldn’t look away from him; blaster on his hip, blood still smudged over his face and spread across his knuckles. His scar was gone. Hers wasn’t, it stung beneath the leather she wrapped it in. Two hands reaching, never touching. She might have cried once, to think of it, but her heart had long since hardened.

“I miss you.” She whispered. 

  
  


His smile never faltered and he extended one of his bloody, broken hands, “I’m right here, nothing to miss. I’ll always be right here.”

  
  


Eyes glossing over, Rey shook her head. If she took his hand he would vanish and she would wake up. He wasn’t real, or if he was his existence was that of a phantom who did not know its place in the Force. The Ben she met each night was just a fragment of the one she had known, yet she clung to it desperately. It kept her sane, was a balm on the aching wound of their shattered bond. 

  
  


“I know.” When she didn’t take his hand his smile fell into a look of dejection, but he said nothing. 

  
  


She brushed past him and into the humid jungle where they had first met. It had been terrifying, chased down by a hulking, masked fiend wielding a crimson lightsaber. Now Rey remembered it with an odd fondness. 

  
  


“I found you alluring, even then,” Ben commented from behind her. He is tearing through the brush with all the finesse of a bantha, “Not just for your power.” 

  
  


Rey knew if she looked back her tagalong ghost would be blushing, she certainly was. Her whole life she’d been nothing more than a Jakku junk-rat, and here a man was calling her beautiful. A dead man. 

  
  


“I was terrified of you,” she admitted, “But now I’m grateful for the time we had.” 

  
  


There was na icy pause, and Ben had stopped moving behind her, “...the time we had?”

  
  


Two rules of dream world. The first was no touching, the second was not to remind Ben that he was dead. 

  
  


“I— I meant—

  
  


She had wanted to take him to the rocks where he had taken her, had wanted to wander the halls of Maz’s castle. Talk about everything and nothing, like they always did. Rey and her phantom. Already the world around them was beginning to fade. Ben’s eyes were wet and confused. 

  
  


This night was a failure, then. Rey sighed, knowing it would be easier to end it now than wait for her dream to implode. 

  
  


“Ben.” When she said his name his glassy eyes met hers, “I’m so sorry, for everything.” 

  
  


His full, handsome mouth parted, but before he could say a word she lunged at him. It only took a brush of her fingers over his hand to send her rocketing back to wakefulness. 

  
  


Rey sat up gasping, covered in a fine sheen of sweat which the Tatooine dust liked to settle and stick in. Blinking, she frantically swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, clearing away the tears which had begun to pool. 

  
  


All of her aches were renewed, every crack and sting and bite weaving their voices together in an agonizing symphony. But it was those things that hurt within that ached the worst. It was rare for her to fail now that she understood the conditions of these blissful dreams. But when she did fail… 

  
  


Glancing out her port window she found she’d only slept for a scant few hours. Much of the night still lay before her. Sighing, she wiped a final few tears from the corners of her eyes and sat up, swinging shaking legs over the side of her cot. There would be no more sleep. Ghosts could wait. 

  
  


Raising a trembling hand, her lightsaber slapped haphazardly into her palm. When she ignited it the whole of her tiny abode was warmed by its citrine glow. 

  
  


There were things to be done, unpleasant as they might be to do by dark of night. Namely a raider camp that needed clearing beyond the western ridge. She’d heard that they were capturing women to sell to skin traders. 

  
  


Rey had been sold once. 

  
  


She let that lingering anger fuel her as she stepped out into the chill night air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: [Link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/sordidbones)


	2. Slipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben continues to relearn himself. Rey begins to notice herself slipping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments on chapter one!
> 
> I changed the fic title to something I feel better reflects its trajectory.

For a while, he drifted. The pain shifted from here to there, as though to highlight different hurts. And in his chest, in his spirit, that wound became the most nagging. It throbbed no matter where he was, no matter how he shifted and writhed. It was only once he was brought to a new place, a new memory, that it began to subside some as his mind was distracted. 

Somewhere in his aimless drifting Ben had decided that these were indeed memories. He would need to recollect them before… all of it was still unclear. But he was Ben Solo, and this power he was transient within held the key to his memories. Pieces of himself which he needed before he could wake. 

In this memory, Ben could not have been more than twelve. The walls around him were brown stone, which met at a narrow, vaulted ceiling. From the outside he could hear the wild din of the jungle, thrumming like and endless baseline of bird and insect noise. This memory version of himself felt subdued, emotions backed behind a wall of childish resolve. The boy was a dam, in a sense, containing endless waves of the sort of betrayal only an abandoned child could feel. 

It struck Ben hard, how tortured he was when he was still so young. The child rang his hands awkwardly in front of him as he traversed the halls of the structure. His knuckles were raw and bandaged, first pink hints of blood beginning to seep through. His watery sable eyes wandered as he walked, as though the passageways of the temple perturbed him despite their familiarity. Tapestries hung from the ceiling, greying and frayed and ancient. Hewn into their faces was the symbol of the Jedi Order; the brilliant blade in its circle. 

It was glorious to behold. That glory was lost on the child who wandered anxiously in its shadow. This was not what the boy wanted, it was not what _Ben_ had wanted. He remembered the toddler in the cockpit of the Falcon. He had wanted to be like Han Solo. _Little Starfighter_, the endearment echoed unbidden. Why was he here? 

A few other children passed Ben by, none of them paying any mind. In fact, they seemed determined to ignore him. Save for a small Twi’lek girl who looked afraid, tugging anxiously at one of her green-tinted lekku. It stung. 

_They’re only jealous of you, my boy._

A voice, and with it tendrils of deceptive warmth which cradled the ailing child’s mind. Ben felt ill, if he had a body it might seize at the terrible familiarity of those words and their cadence. He needed no more reminder than that to know that they belonged to a great evil, a venom called _Snoke_. But his recollection of the creature itself was nonexistent. 

The boy, on the other hand, leaned into it. Closing his sallow eyelids and letting that darkness cradle him for a moment. Ben wanted to shout at him, to take him by his shoulders and shake him. Tell him to run, to cry, to tell someone before whatever that parasite was could take hold and—

A flash behind his eyes of fiery red and spitting blue. Barred teeth, wild eyes. Power and need all wrapped up in his chest. A piece of another memory. Fleeting. There and gone again, and Ben was left to watch his child self carry on soothing his tattered heart with the blackest of poisons. 

The boy carried himself anxiously to the end of the hall. Despite his already lofty height he made himself small before the ancient, wooden door which stood between him and a fate unknown. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach, his palms were sweaty. He was guilty about something, shame swelling into his throat until the child was nauseous with it. Again the blackness touched him, easing away some of the upheaval with its barely disguised malice. 

With a shaking fist he knocked on the door. It swung open with a rush of cool air, the Force aiding it from the other side. Within was a study, the walls lined with shelves stacked with books and scrolls and holocrons. The air was less stifling inside, windows opening onto a small courtyard within the temple and allowing fresh air to flow. Beside them was a small bench lined with pots of growing herbs. 

“Ben.” A voice drew his attention from across the room. It belonged to a man of middling height. He wore beige robes, and his golden brown hair was shot through with a scattering of silver. His right hand, half hidden in the shadows of his robe, was cybernetic. Standing halfway around a heavy wooden desk, both his countenance and his Force expression were carefully guarded. 

_Luke. Uncle Luke._ The boy was only ashamed, but something in Ben twisted with fear. _Luke Skywalker, savior of the galaxy, your uncle._ Were he corporeal he might have shivered, but he could only watch on, glued to the doorway as the boy stepped further into the study. 

“Master Skywalker.” He inclined his dark head, padawan braid dangling at his chin. 

At the sound of his title, Luke’s shoulders shrugged, and his expression which before had been austere, morphed into reserved exhaustion. He motioned to a chair. “Ben, sit.” 

Meekly, the boy obeyed; slumping into a low backed, too-small chair in front of his uncle’s desk. He crumpled into it, making himself seem small. 

A beat of silence passed between the two. Luke looked at his nephew as though he were at a loss. Young Ben kept his head bowed, visibly shaking with his anxiety. Then the silence became too much and he blurted out a rushed apology.

“It was an accident,” he stammered, “I really didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry uncle Luke. I’ll never—

“Enough, Ben.” Luke’s cybernetic hand connected harshly with his desk, components whirring softly in complaint, “You broke Morar’s arm. This is more serious than your past squabbles, Ben.” 

The boy nervously chewed his inner cheek. Ben Solo, who watched on silently, could taste the blood he drew. A memory within a memory began to unfold before him like the patterned wings of a butterfly. 

_A Zabrak boy of fifteen odd years, smaller than him, but meaner. Surrounded by a small group of rowdy boys. They watch as Ben trains, moving gracefully through his forms. The Zabrak, Morar, points and whispers something. The group erupts in boisterous laughter, and though Ben knows it is only because they envy his power, he snaps. It’s like this every day. No more._

_He falls out of Soresu, letting his practice saber bounce off the smooth stones of the training ground. He doesn’t give the others a chance to react before he is rushing them, throwing himself into Morar with all of his weight._

_The other boys scatter as Ben batters Morar with his fists, lost in a rush of anger that tints his vision crimson. He goes until his knuckles split and bleed. He goes until the anger flushes from his body and he is left limp and sobbing over his unconcious peer. He didn’t want this, he never wanted to hurt anyone._

Coming back to the present moment, but also never having left it, Ben’s presence shifted in the doorframe. He wanted to rush to the child’s defense. To his own defense, because through the eyes of a grown man he could see the unfairness, could sense the injustice about to unfold. Didn’t Uncle Luke see what was really happening? Was he truly so blind to the rash of bullying his nephew faced each day? Was he really so oblivious to the unhappiness of his own flesh and blood? Was he ignorant to the darkness which bloomed inside the child? The boy had snapped, justifiably so, and it seemed the man who should have been his protector only sought to punish him. 

“Master Skywalker…” The boy couldn’t meet his Uncle’s eyes.

“What is your mother going to think, Ben? She already has enough on her plate with the upcoming elections, the last thing she needs is more trouble from you!” The Master’s breathing became heavy, face darkening in his outrage. 

At the mention of his mother, young Ben ducked his head, blinking back tears. In that moment it all became centered once more, the memory shattered whatever boundaries of separation existed within Ben’s mind and he became acutely aware that the crying boy in the chair was, _him_. 

The room became more vivid, and the emotion more visceral as he reconstructed that day’s events. He remembered the pure, vile rage that had knotted in his gut, knuckles splitting as he laid into Maror, the shame which had haunted him as he traversed the temple’s ancient halls at his Uncle’s call. And then there was the invocation of his mother. Leia Organa. He remembered her from Chandrila, when he was small. Her radiant beauty in her evening gown. 

He remembered her eyes as well, the apprehension which had plagued them. As though she were making some terrible realization of her young son. 

This was the result of that apprehension; cloistered away in a temple at the edge of the galaxy, unwanted. Ben had wanted to be a pilot, like his father, like Han who had hoisted the boy onto his hip and picked him wildflowers. But it had been too much, as he grew his abilities mounted and his power flourished, they became _afraid_. Frightened of their own son, of the boy who once chomped on flowers and run naked through their home toting his father’s blaster. 

It was devastating, shaking him to his core; as a child and as a wandering phantom. Still rendered to his very spirit by that betrayal, Ben could no longer make out his Uncle’s cold words. The walls seemed to warp and bend around him, and the blackness of the space-between began to creep back in around the edges of his vision. 

This time Ben didn’t fight it. He had no desire to recall the pain which saddled him. It was bitter and left a foul taste in his mouth, to be an unwanted child. The problem boy foisted off onto his unprepared uncle. He wanted to forget again, to forget the shame and misery and self loathing those years of neglect had imposed on his fragile young self. 

_It wasn’t fair._ The voice again. Wherever his physical body was, her hands were pressed gently over it, ebbing some of the pain. _But you fought bitterly for so long, did you not? You were so bright…_

“I don’t know.” Ben replied, drifting once more. He still couldn’t remember much, but the image was becoming clearer, “Part of me is missing, I think. It hurts in my chest.” 

_Ahead_, the voice replied, _Always ahead. Your wounds were great, but your call to your destiny is greater._

“My destiny?” 

_Aye._

*

Rey crept on her forearms over a sandusted outcropping of red stone. It overlooked a shallow canyon which, by the light of the three moons, she could see was housing a small collection of rounded, yurt-like tents. Their frames were primitive and covered in thin, gauzy material, pale in the night.

This was the camp she’d received the tip on. These were the raiders who were allegedly doing business with skin traders. She ground her teeth, sickened by the thought. Groping for her lightsaber, Rey freed it clumsily from her waist, sending a scattering of pebbles cascading down into the canyon in the process. 

Their small sounds echoed into large ones and she froze, fingertips digging anxiously into the stone under them. Below, lights began to flick on in yurts, and a few sand-people emerged. All male, donned in their loose robes and fearsome masks. They raised their staffs defensively as they sought the source of the disturbance, bleating softly to each other in their strange, alien tongue. 

Cursing, Rey slunk backwards a few inches, assessing. There were a half dozen prowling the drifted sands, and when she shut her eyes and reached out she felt another half dozen still slumbering in their tents. Just Tuskens, she couldn’t feel the panicked signatures of any would-be slaves. Did she have the wrong encampment? 

Her jaw tensed, and she reached out, pressing as carefully as she could into the mind of the raider nearest her. There was no gentle way to rifle through someone’s thoughts, and the mind of a Tusken Raider was a confusing place. They didn’t think like most sentients, and Rey struggled to sort through the cacophony of sight and sound that comprised his brain. Ultimately, she found nothing relating to the skin trade, but she found something else, far more troubling. 

When she pulled out of his head the raider collapsed, unconscious but unharmed. His comrades yowled and began to fan out as Rey retreated into the darkness. Her speeder was parked behind a rock formation some hundred meters away. Far enough that the Tuskens wouldn’t hear her. 

She moved toward it with purpose, the knowledge of what she had found weighing heavy behind her eyes. In the mind of the Tusken she had seen the face of the very Twi’lek who had given her this tip. Unmistakable with his sour expression, half of his right lekku missing. He had been observing them from a jagged peak. They’d chased him off. 

Kicking her speeder into gear she gripped the handle bars with white knuckles. It was true that the locals didn’t take kindly to her presence, even if they did take advantage of her for menial errands and tasks. They saw her as an outsider, a crazed mystic wearing the last name of a long dead boy. No one would bat an eye if a clan of crazed Tusken Raiders were to descend on her in the night, especially if she had been the one to provoke them. 

Making good time, flying uninhibited over endless kilometers of sand. The twin suns rose, and the dunes shifted from pale blue to lavender, to golden with the dawn. Behind her the ramshackle speeder kicked up a cloud of orange dust that heralded her arrival as the low stone roofs of Mos Eisley peeked over the rolling horizon. 

It was nothing like Niima. Yet as she roamed the dusty streets she could not help but find the faces familiar. Lined with age and grit. The faces of people who had never known anything but subsistence and labor; moisture farmers and junk traders. She might have felt a kinship with them once, now the sight of them only confused her. Despite everything, her identity was still a sore spot. 

Robes tinted red with dust, she came to a stop before the cantina she had met the Twi’lek inside of. It’s name was in Huttese, of which Rey spoke very little. Pushing past the curtain to the dingey interior, she didn’t expect to find the alien in question. She had come prepared to mind trick the bar keep into giving her his name. 

Lucky her, that wouldn’t be necessary. The Twi’lek was sat at the bar, slumped over a chipped glass of something strong. He was drooling onto his good lekku. Rey’s nose drew up in disgust at the sight. 

The Hutt behind the bar greeted her by name, “Ms. Skywalker!” 

She winced, both at the name which hid her shame, and at the barkeep’s familiarity with her. It was a sharp reminder that she spent far too much time drowning her sorrows. 

Ignoring the droid, she approached the Twi’lek with sleep-deprived irritation. She didn’t bother to be gentle. She had not kindness left in her to afford. Grabbing him by the back of his soiled shirt she hoisted him off of his bar stool. It only took one push into his mind to locate the information she wanted. Her mental hand was harsh, and she knew she would leave scars which would linger, but she didn’t care. She found what she needed. 

The tip had been fabricated in a poorly considered attempt to drive her off world, or get her killed by a clan of raging Tuskens. He would have settled for either. Rey flung him, sending him careening across the bar in a cascade of glass and spilled liquor. The Twi’lek wailed, jerking awake then slumping against the opposite wall, pawing at his head in confusion. Still drunk, and bleeding from his assault, he looked up to her with bleary eyes. 

“Remember me?” Rey asked, stalking forward. “You gave me a tip the other day.” 

He shook his head, trying to scramble to his feet. He failed, tumbling back to the filthy floor in a pathetic pile of limbs and lekku. The other patrons, who had been deathly silent up to then, guffawed at him. 

“No!” He exclaimed, backing up to another wall, nowhere left to run, “No, please I don’t—

“You do.” Rey said, taciturn. “You told me they were doing business with skin traders. You wanted me to kill them and bring down the wrath of a whole clan on myself, right?”

“No!” He rushed to explain, but Rey had already seen the truth in his mind, “No, I would never. Not to a Skywalker!”

The name made her cringe, she hated it, hated how she needed it to mask the true terror of her lineage. The sound of it echoing in the silent cantina was enough to ignite something vicious inside of her. Like the ripper-raptors that had scavenged the wastes of Jakku, violence consumed her like hunger. Her fingers twitched and her muscles burned, and before anyone could intervene she had her saber spitting fire in her palm. The room was cast a brilliant orange, illuminating the terrified expressions of the onlookers. 

With a grunt, she ran it through his gut, then dragged it up. Vision swimming red, her whole body seemed to buzz. Her victim yelped and pawed weakly at her arm, then his head lilted and he let out his last, shuddering breath. 

Rey pulled back, spun on her heel, and exited the cantina without sparing any of its denizens so much as a glance. It was more likely than not that no repercussions would come her way, not on a planet like Tatooine, not in a settlement like Mos Eisely. With mechanical cadence she found her speeder and mounted up, pulling her scarf over her face to guard against sand as she kicked it into gear. 

It was only once she had reached the relative safety of her hut that the weight of her actions dragged her into the sand. Under the heat of the blazing suns she collapsed to her knees, shaking with the memory. There was still cinder on her fingers from her saber searing through his vest. She remembered his eyes, clouded with drunkeness, swimming with fear. 

Rey hadn’t even known his name. He had, in a way, tried to kill her. But it wasn’t the way of a Jedi to act so rashly. And that impulse, that violent thing which had possessed her and compelled her hand… it frightened her, _terrified_ her. 

Doubling over, she wretched into the sand. There was nothing in her stomach but foul bile, and her abdomen cramped with the effort. Her eyes were wet, and her nose ran. She knew she must’ve been the very image of pathetic; crumpled there in the dust. 

“I never wanted this,” she whispered, voice wavering. And she hadn’t. She didn’t like this lonely pilgrims life. Always seeking and waiting. Living at the whim of the Force when all she had ever wanted was belonging, a family. Rey hadn’t asked to be the last Jedi, heir to a thousand generations. She hadn’t wanted to be a damned Skywalker, but she needed that name to hide the shameful truth of that which she wanted the _least_. 

Most of all, she hadn’t wanted Ben to die. Moments after he came back to her, gave life to her, he was torn forever from her embrace. It was sickeningly unfair that, after giving _everything_ she had, Rey would be left entirely alone. 

She wretched again, then managed to limp into her hut. She would need to leave Tatooine for a while. Whatever the Force had brought her here to do, it was soiled now. Rey was a murderer. 

As she packed her things in a flurry, her eyes were drawn repeatedly to her pitiful cot. She longed for the sleep it promised, for the dreams of Ben and distant worlds. Exploring endlessly until the dawn, talking in beautiful circles and pretending that everything would be okay. 

But she couldn’t, not now. Everything _wasn’t_ okay. Rey needed to get away, to set up somewhere new and pretend this morning had never transpired. Only then could she rest. 

“Just a little while,” she soothed herself. And maybe she was speaking to Ben, too. Though she knew he couldn’t hear her. 

Adjusting her saber on her belt, Rey shouldered her singular bag and made for her x-wing. Surely by now rumors of the rogue Jedi had permeated the darkest depths of the Mos Eisley underground. 

Breaking atmo, she decided she never wanted to see sand again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that feedback feeds the writer <3


	3. Withering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey rejoins her friends on Chandrila, seeking anything to distract from her pain. 
> 
> Ben witnesses the birth of Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's part is way longer this chapter, and Ben's much shorter. Just a heads up. 
> 
> Also implied masturbation at one point, woot.

The x-wing had enough fuel left in it to make the jump to the galactic core; to the worlds of glittering metropolises that stretched from horizon to horizon. Chandrila was her destination. When she jerked out of hyperspace over the soaring skyscrapers of Hanna City she was met with immediate resistance by law enforcement. 

A y-wing appeared on either side of her, both painted with the blue and yellow which designated them as New Republic. New _restored_ Republic would have been more accurate, and even then much of the galaxy was still in shambles. The budding order of the core worlds would likely take decades to reach the chaos of the outer rim. 

Her com crackled to life and a woman’s voice projected through, authoritatively, “Unknown x-wing, you have entered the protected airspace of Hanna City illegally and with intentions unknown, identify yourself or be shot down.” 

Rey adjusted her helmet and scowled. Shooting her down over the city would be pure idiocy, but she kept that thought to herself, “Callsign Red-five, former Resistance and Rebellion.” 

She had hoped that would suffice, but it did not. 

“Name, pilot?”

Her jaw flexed and she remembered suddenly how many hours she had gone without sleeping. Maybe being shot down over Hanna City wouldn’t be such a terrible fate. 

“Rey.” She groused, and waited, but the long pause over the humming com indicated they wanted a _surname_ as well. Of course they did, it seemed like everybody in the fucking galaxy needed to know who her father was. It was like poison on her tongue, the stolen name that hid her shame, “..._Skywalker_.”

“Oh!” the y-wings parted and reconverged in front of her, “Master Skywalker, we apologize for the trouble. Trying times and all, we have to follow protocol. Follow us, we’ll escort you to General Dameron.” 

At the word _master_ Rey wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She wasn’t a master by any means, and those masters which were meant to accompany her always had been woefully silent for nearly a year. She was just Rey. Rey with a lightsaber and a borrowed name. Rey who had killed a man at sunrise and would now dine with Republic leaders at sunset. 

What a mess. 

They took her to a landing pad atop a tower faced in pale glass, it narrowed to a needle like point at its soaring peak. Mounted upon its sheer face was the blue emblem of the new republic. The same fishtail like design of the Resistance and Rebellion, but recolored, placed in a circle ringed in gold, and surrounded by fifteen evenly spaced stars. It looked new.

The landing pad was small, intended for transports, not starfighters. But Rey managed the landing, technicians and engineers rushing to clear the pad as she brought her x-wing down in a plume of wind and ebbing thrust. 

Once her aged ship had settled on the landing pad, Rey removed her helmet and glanced around through the canopy. Coming to Chandrila, she had known this would be her destination, but all the shine and pomp still made her uneasy. At her core Rey would always be a Jakku scavenger. Scavengers never drew this near to pretty, new things. Or, if they did, they did not escape unscathed. 

She spotted Poe waiting by the entrance to the skyscarper’s small hangar. The y-wing pilot must have signaled him ahead of time. Rey hopped down from her ship. The air had a bite to it, high up as they were, and wind cut straight through her dirty desert garb. 

“Rey!” Poe exclaimed, waving her towards the hangar doors. He was beaming wide and white. As she drew nearer his expression began to fall, handsome face souring with worry. 

Rey gave a weak smile. She knew she looked rough, but the confirmation in her friend’s eyes didn’t sit well.

“Poe,” she stopped in front of him. He was dressed in fine military regalia; a uniform of deep blue, his right shoulder lined with medals and bars which represented his achievements. General Poe Dameron. It had a nice ring to it. He had earned it, in the end. “You look well.” 

His dark eyes wandered over her for a fleeting moment, and she knew what he was taking in. The filth of her robes, the dark circles under her eyes, the jut of her cheekbones that whispered at her wasting. She must have looked like a ghost to him, an impression of the Rey he had known prior to Exegol. 

“I wish I could say the same about you,” he sighed, not unkindly. He looked as though he were at a loss. 

He took her bag from her before she could protest, pressing it into the hands of an unassuming mechanic, “Have this taken to a room for her.” That bag contained the Jedi texts, Rey didn’t want it in the hands of some stranger, but Poe didn’t allow for time to argue, “Come with me, I already paged the gang, we’ll grab a bite in the canteen and catch up.” 

Then he offered her his hand, like he was afraid she might crumble with the effort of walking. Was she really so emaciated? Rey brushed it away with a mumbled, “I’m fine.” If her whole evening was going to be comprised of this sort of fussing she might lash out verbally. She knew it meant that these people, her friends, cared for her wellbeing, but it felt misplaced. Rey didn’t need pity. She was here for new purpose, for leads to keep her occupied while the Force remained silent to her. 

The walk to the canteen was awkward. Though she considered Poe a friend, they had never been particularly close. There had been a sort of rivalry between them in the year leading up to Exegol. The _Falcon_ was still a point of contention between them, even though neither were currently in possession of it. Every time he glanced over his shoulder at her he was met with a distant stare. 

While the halls of the building had maintained the minimalist, sterile aesthetic suggested by its outer decoration, the canteen was a touch more familiar in its design. It put Rey slightly at ease to be surrounded by deep blues and oranges rather than spotless white. It was more of a restaurant than a smugglers getaway, complete with a bar and a collection of high, round tables. Most of them were occupied by men and women dressed similarly to Poe, though Rey spotted a few politicians, made obvious by their resplendent dress next to their austere military cohorts. 

“Poe!” A familiar voice caught their attention from across the room. For a moment affectionate warmth bloomed in Rey’s chest, and the smile that tugged the corners of her mouth was real. Despite all the strife and struggle she had endured in the last year, Finn had always stuck by her as best he could. Her dearest friend. 

Poe lead her through the throngs of supping personnel to a round table tucked into the far corner of the canteen. There was already a basket of bread waiting for them, along with cups of water and empty stemmed glasses. Beside the bread was a bottle of desert wine. She was sure it was unintentional on the part of her friends, but anything from the desert sounded entirely unappealing to her at present, even if it offered the warm embrace of inebriation. 

Around the table were a few familiar faces, all of them cycling through various forms of concern as she climbed into one of the high backed chairs. Knocking her knuckles on the table anxiously, Rey kissed her teeth, then tried to placate them, “I know. It’s bad. But it could be worse, it _has_ been worse, I’ve gained some weight back since I was last here.” 

Surprisingly it was Kaydel Ko Connix who spoke up first. She was wearing the simple robes of a junior senator, following in the footsteps of Leia, who had been like a mother to her , “I don’t think so. You look worse.” 

Rey pursed her lips in disagreement, feeling icy anger begin to take hold in her belly. They weren’t going to accept her excuses and empty platitudes this time around, “Listen, it doesn’t—

“Don’t say it doesn’t matter,” Finn cut in, fingers picking nervously at a piece of bread. Beside him Rose was nodding in stalwart agreement. 

“Something is happening to you, Rey,” Always the young engineer’s voice was strong and sure, brimming with compassion, “And maybe we can’t fully understand it but we’ll do whatever you need us to do to help…” She trailed off, at a loss, but quickly found her footing again, “To help you overcome whatever this is. Watching you fall to pieces in the last year has been _awful_.”

A year. Rey had been aware of the creeping passage of time but to hear it from the lips of another was jarring. It had only been a year. The Force had abandoned her with near totality, mum save for soft pushes to distant worlds. Her body had withered, her mind was flagging. A year. 

It felt like a decade. A century. Her whole life gone in her anguish. She dared not think of him then, though he always lingered somewhere at the edge of her mind, in the shattered bond that lingered in her chest. 

Rey choked back her memories of Ben Solo, and let her friends believe her wet eyes were for them. 

Poe laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Kaydel stretched across the tabletop and gathered one of Rey’s sallow hands in her own. 

“We want to help you,” the other woman said, squeezing. Just then a waitress arrived bearing a great wooden platter of food. It was stacked high with fruits and meats from a dozen different systems, the variation in colors and shapes made Rey gape. Two years clear of Jakku and the diversity of the galaxy still floored her from time to time. 

They dropped the serious conversation for the duration of the meal, though it still loomed regrettably overhead. They weren’t going to simply let it go like they had in the past. Still, Rey tried to engage, feigning interest, poking food around her plate but never taking more than a timid bite or two. 

Jannah was on world, but preoccupied with de-indoctrination exercises at the moment. Lando and Chewie were running recon on the lingering First Order cell in the outer rim. Much of their little band of rebels, survivors of Crait, had scattered to the wind. 

The Republic was doing well, considering the circumstances. They skirted the topic of rebuilding the Jedi Order entirely, for which Rey was grateful. She thought of the texts waiting for her in some sterile room. She had tried meditating on them, not even they could catalyze the voices of the Jedi. 

Eventually they uncorked the wine. By then Rey was so dizzy from the flurry of socialization that she gladly offered her glass to be filled. Then again, then once more. Thin as she was, hungry as she was, the drink reached her head with alarming speed, and she found herself hiccupping and leaning on Poe’s arm, face flush. 

“Seems like we need to get you to bed, kiddo,” He laughed awkwardly, passing her off to Kaydel, “We’ll figure out exactly what to do with you tomorrow. For now, rest. You sure as hell need it.” 

Rey wanted to argue, but the words were all jumbled up on her tongue. She took Kaydel’s arm and allowed herself to be led from the canteen. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It was obvious to both women that Rey needed to focus on keeping her footing. 

“Lightweight, eh?” Kaydel commented dryly as they stepped off of a lift, Rey nearly face planting on the seamless ivory floor. 

Rey, righting her center of gravity, turned to half-face her guide, “You… your hair is like Leia’s.” The realization had come from nowhere, and the words were slurred. 

Kaydel’s face fell at the mention of the late general. It was true, she wore it in a braided halo around her head. It was so familiar it made Rey ache. 

“Yeah,” Kaydel replied, “I do.” 

It struck Rey then, inebriated as she was, that other people were hurting, too. This war had left many people in shambles. Maybe she should trust them, maybe they truly could help her heal. 

When they came to the door to her quarters, Kaydel slapped Rey’s clumsy palm down on a handpad. The machine hummed and a green light followed the contours of her hand. Rey hiccuped, wondering drunkenly how they already had her print. 

The door hissed open, and Kaydel remained at the threshold as Rey stumbled inside. It was small, mostly grey and white. The bunk was suspended from the wall by two runnels of thick wire and there was a writing desk with a datapad in the corner. The lights flickered on and Rey winced at their fluorescence. 

“Goodnight, Rey.” She paused, considering her words, then added, “War hurts everyone. I know your situation is more complicated than most, but we’re all survivors. If we can’t rely on one another…” 

Rey nodded in understanding. The door slid shut between them, and she was left to her own devices. There was a set of clean clothes laid out for her on the bunk, likely Kaydel’s. A white shirt with a pocketed grey vest, and matching grey pants. Beneath the outfit were a few more of similar style, beside the stack was a pile of undergarments. Rey sighed, grateful. She’d had sand between her tits all day. 

She picked out clean underwear and made for the fresher, eager to stand beneath the warm spray. Her whole body ached, and something about the rush of cleansing water sobered her a bit. Water units were few and far between on the worlds she had been traversing. Rey shut her eyes and surrendered to the gentle mix of warm water and alcohol. 

She remembered something good, at least it felt good while she was drunk. 

Lips pressed hotly to her own, broad hands pulling her close. Dead as he was, she would always have those things. She felt warm and light, and something burned low in the pit of her stomach. The memory of his bare chest came to her unbidden, her breath became shallow as her hand slid down the wet plane of her stomach. 

Rey remembered like she had never allowed herself to. Lips and hair, dark eyes and broad hands. She remembered the ferocity with which he wielded a lightsaber, and she remembered the depth of his smooth voice. 

She felt overhot, everywhere, but especially _there_. 

“_Ben_,” She said his name like a prayer, voice so soft it was nearly lost in the patter of falling water.

*

The temple was destroyed. Dozens massacred with it.

The whole galaxy would think it was _him_. 

Ben’s mouth was dry, chest tight. The voice in his head had never called out so strongly as it did now. 

_What have you done, sweet boy?_ It cooed, even though he was a man now. To Snoke he would always be a boy. 

“I— I didn’t mean it.” He was trembling, unable to look away from the tongues of fire licking their terrible brightness to the midnight sky. The smoke that billowed was almost indigo in its hue, unnatural and thick from the lightning strike. Tears well and spilled and he felt like a child, “I didn’t want this.” 

Insidious warmth surrounded him, cradling him like it did when he was small. With faux concern it caressed his mind, while in truth it only injected more of its venom. Guilt, which already had held Ben firmly in its grasp, nearly sent him to his knees. He wretched. 

_Come to me,_ Snoke beckoned, _You cannot stay here now. And who could love you after such a travesty as this? Who could love such a pitiful, violent creature? I am the only one who has such kindness left in me, child, to love one like you. I know the truth, Ben. My boy. Come to me._

And the dark creature of his childhood was right. The blackness swelled and overtook his wrought heart, and Ben Solo was turned. By the time Snoke held the young man in his scarred, twisted arms, he had already become Kylo Ren.

A child in a mask. 

Ben was torn from this memory with near violence, his whole body humming with distress. He was sobbing, eyes bleary, body shaking as he remembered the cruelty of that day. Stars how he had tried. And tried and tried and tried. There had been so much light in him that he had resisted for twenty-two years before poisoned darkness finally rooted itself deep. 

No one had ever attempted to help him. He had only ever been met with fear and punishment. 

“Why show me this?” He asked through his grief. He did not want to remember Kylo Ren. 

_I did not show you anything._ The voice replied, _It is the will of the Force that guides you. It shows you those moments which most shaped you._

“How?” 

_A story I will tell you when you wake up._ There was a note of melancholy to her tone. 

“I am awake,” He insisted, though the world was dark all around him, “I don’t want to see things like _that_. I don’t want to remember.” 

_You must._

“Why?” Growing frustrated, he moved through the blackness, but there was nothing to see but more dark.

_The Force is bleeding… and someone is waiting for you, though she does not know it._

Cryptic, he struggled to make sense of the words. Someone was waiting for him? Why would anyone wait for someone so lost? Why would someone wait for a monster?

_Enough talk for now. Your wounds are healed, but your body is still weak. Rest._

And with those words Ben Solo slipped away once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic will never be particularly popular because it's high angst and plot heavy, but I would appreciate it if people wanted to maybe rec it to friends, and stuff? I'm just putting a lot of energy into it is all. 
> 
> Also come yell at me about it on tumblr or twitter (dvrkrey and @bitterbones respectively), that *always* makes me happy XD 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments/kudos are loved <3


	4. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben each encounter a bit of the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my old username back <3

Rey dreamed. 

On this night the planet was Jakku, shifting sands familiar under her soles. She stood at the edge of Niima outpost. Her old bo staff was slung over her shoulder, and she savored the reassuring pressure of it. It promised safety from competing scavengers when she used to spend her days out in the wrecks. The sun was at its midday peak, but all the water basins were void of scrubbing scavengers and thirsty luggabeasts. Unkar Plutt’s personal stall stood empty, too. Rey swallowed, grateful that her unconscious mind would spare her the sight of him. 

_They sold you…_ The words echoed in her head. Maybe there was more to it than that, but those were the only ones that mattered. _Sold_. She swallowed that memory down with the lump that had formed in her throat. The world was quiet, silent as a desert could be. In the distance, all around, mirage warped the horizon. 

“Rey.” She turned, and there he was. The hole from her strike was still in his shirt, blood was still gathered at the corner of his mouth. He was still filthy and bruised, but his hands… his hands looked better, somehow. 

“Ben.” She smiled at him, determined not to sully this dream like she had the last one. Rey wanted to pretend. Here, in this place between conscious and unconscious, her body was heart and whole. She could wander for hours without tiring. Here she could smile again. Here she could be just Rey, her responsibilities felt distant, the sting of her wounds was numbed. 

In this place she could pretend Ben was alive. That he was beside her once more. That the man who stood before her wasn’t just an impression, but a bittersweet memory of something that never really was. 

“Rey.” He said her name again, smiling back. Ben’s smile was beautiful. She’d only ever seen it once, but she didn’t want to think about that. 

Rey nodded towards the wastes and began to walk. The way was familiar. Because it was a dream she didn’t think much about where she was going, only followed where her feet took her. 

Ben trailed more closely than usual this time. She wondered if his dark clothing was too stifling under the Jakku sun. Did the spirits that haunted dreams feel such sensation? And because it was a dream, and here the bond lived on in spite of his death, Ben answered her, “It is hot, but I don’t mind. Much of my training took place on worlds with hostile climates.” 

Rey scowled to think of his training, the torture he must have endured under Snoke. She had seen the old master once, a puppet of something even more sinister. He had been cruel and twisted and his goal had been only to bring Kylo more suffering, to bleed him until none of Ben remained. He had failed. But Ben had died anyways. She shuddered and spoke, trying to forget and be present in the moment, “What do you know about Chandrila?”

It was the first thing that came to mind, considering her present circumstances. She just wanted to hear him speak, to drag out this bliss as long as she could. 

Ben’s foot hit awkwardly at the side of a sand dune, and he slid down a meter before clambering back up to his feet. He was awkward on the sand, inexperienced with how to traverse it. Rey laughed at him, it was genuine and light, and so unfamiliar a sound that it came as a surprise to her own ears

“Some things.” Ben said, panting as he managed to catch up with her. “It’s unfair.” 

“What?” Rey was grinning, and came to a stop at the crest of the dune. She quirked an eyebrow at him in question as he joined her, “Chandrila is unfair?”

Ben pouted at her and gestured to her staff, “You have that. You’d fall too if you didn’t.” 

Rey snorted, amused by his boyishness. It was cute, “I lived here my whole life, up until the time we met. I won’t fall.” And because she didn’t want him to fade by an accidental brush of their fingers, she tossed the staff between them. He caught it and his hand dwarfed it. Rey smirked as he puzzled over it. 

“When I built it I didn’t consider someone your size ever needing it.” When she built it she had never even considered the possibility of meeting a man, let alone letting one use something that was so essential to her. Yet here he was, “Try not to break it.” 

Rey turned to face sideways and let the sand carry her down the opposite face of the dune. An old, simple trick. No bo staff required. Ben followed her down less gracefully, but he managed not to fall a second time. 

“See? I didn’t fall,” she teased, feet light. She spun to face him again. A gust of wind caught the tendrils of her wrap, making them billow. She realized then, as he stalked towards her with playful gall written across his face, that they might be flirting. 

She had only done that once before, briefly, when he had helped her from her pod on the Supremacy. They had teased one another over Luke’s lightsaber. Her heart fluttered with longing as she remembered. And she was again reminded of how little time they had. 

Ben seemed to sense her sudden malaise, and he tapped her on the arm with the staff, drawing her attention back to him. It was strange how dream Ben seemed to instinctively know not to touch her, “You asked me about Chandrila.”

Rey nodded and began to walk again. The sun was moving fast across the sky, hues intensifying from muted yellows to bleeding orange, time making little sense in the dream. Sunset was when she often arrived home after a hard day of scavenging. They weren’t far off, now.

Ben kept pace with her, using the staff to help him navigate the terrain. “I was born there, five years after the battle of Yavin. I grew up there, sort of. It’s complicated.” 

His voice was sad, and Rey glanced at him. His brow was furrowed and his eyes are distant, as though he were recalling something he didn’t quite understand, “There was a manor. Dad would land the Falcon in a field when he was around, in the spring it was full of wildflowers.” 

Rey blinked at him, “Where?” 

It was a dumb question, self-indulgent. She immediately regretted asking. Even if she were to find this manor, it likely hosted a new family. And what did one do in the halls of a dead lineage? There would be nothing there for Rey but pain. 

The AT-AT came into view, drawing him back from whatever memory he was reliving. He never answered her question, he might not have even registered it. Instead he countered with a claim. “I know this place.” 

Rey’s eyes ran over her patchwork home. The outside was rusted and weathered, half swallowed by the sands. The hatch was shut tight, as if Rey had only been gone for a day and would be returning at dusk. The AT-AT on the actual Jakku had likely been ransacked within days of her departure. 

“On Starkiller, I saw it in your head.” 

Rey winced at the memory of his intrusion. Essential to their bond as it may have been, it hadn’t been pleasant, she had been terrified. “I remember. Do you want to see the inside?” 

Something twisted in her gut, a wave of reluctance washing over her as she led him to the hatch. It came open with a metallic whine, rust and grit flaking onto her fingers. As the door swung open, and the orange light of dusk illuminated the dark insides of her once home, Rey began to shiver. Apprehension turned to dread, but she choked it down. 

There was something within that she feared, that she did not want to see, paradoxically it only made her more curious. What was her subconscious trying to conceal from her?

“Are you okay?” Ben asked, but Rey could only nod in response. 

He looked like he wanted to catch her by the bicep to keep her from entering, his broad hand was poised at his side. But he didn’t, maybe couldn’t. As she passed through the hatch he followed, ducking his head to keep from banging it on the durasteel. 

Rey heard him sniff behind her, probably taking in the full scope of her childhood destitution. None of that mattered though, when she was faced with her wall. She wasn’t surprised by its existence in the slightest, she thought of it often enough in the waking world. Years of endless tallies, one by one, row by row. She had even etched in retroactively those first scant days before she found her AT-AT. 

Now, in this dream iteration of what had once been her prison, things had changed. The wall was still there, each one of its little markings a testament to her solitude. But also it was dynamic, different in a way that made her stomach turn and her knees weak. There were more tallies, and more on top of those. They scratched themselves out before her eyes, hundreds of them, thousands. Where once they had stopped with the day she left Jakku, they now numbered well past her current age. Up and down, the wall was covered in them until they spilled around a corner to the next. 

From the darkest depths of her mind her most deeply held fear flooded forward. Rey collapsed to her knees, unable to look away. She had begun to cry, a low mournful sound dragging from her throat. 

Behind her a phantom watched on, “Rey?”

She shook her head slowly, fingertips scraping across the grated flooring, “Ben?”

Her voice was high and tight, her lips trembling. He approached and knelt beside her, black eyes swimming with worry. His fingers twitched, and she knew he wanted to touch her, but the dream wouldn’t allow for it, “Rey, what was that? Why are you crying?”

When she answered, her voice was dead, all emotion bled from her. Tears still streaked her face. “I’m alone, Ben. And I always will be.” 

Maybe she wanted to die. Maybe she was already in the process of dying, withering away, “You were the only one— _you understood, Ben._” 

“Rey…” 

“I only ever wanted you.” She continued in a rush, gritting her teeth against a torrent of tears, “And then you came for me, you came back to me when no one else could, because it was always just _us_.” 

“I don’t understand.” The phantom said, and Rey sobbed. 

She doubled over, arms wrapping around her middle, cradling herself because there was no one else who could. A shaking sob wracked her body as she remembered and all around her the dream began to shiver and shatter. “You came for me, Ben. And then you died.” 

“I’m not dead.” 

“You are,” she heaved, “You are.” 

The dream began to warp, everything around her began to feel almost ethereal in its unrealness. Her vision blurred and began to darken as total unconsciousness crept back in. _It’s over._ She told herself, _I can be numb again_. 

It was almost gone entirely, swept away with the rest of her dreams, when she felt a phantom hand on her shoulder, another at her waist. Lips against her ear, their soft, ghostly breath stirring her hair. 

His voice came harsh, like he had run a ways to reach her. It was almost tremulous, desperate, afraid, “Rey.” Fingers dragged down her back, and his lips pressed to her jaw. 

It didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t have been able to touch her. The dream should have ended and she should have jolted awake in her bunk on Chandrila. She shuddered under his hands and mouth, uncurling as her tears began to dry. All the rules were breaking themselves. She wanted to kiss him back, even if it wasn’t real. 

It felt real. 

“Rey,” He breathed, and his hand cupped her breast like she had imagined in the shower, “I—

A knock on her door. Rey sat bolt upright, gasping. Her body was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, hair plastered to her forehead and neck. 

“Rey?” It was Rose.

Her eyes flicked to the chrono on the desk. She’d slept in past midday. 

“Rey, are you awake?” More knocking. 

Rey sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. They were shaking, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to stand.

“Yeah, sorry!” She tried her best not to sound shaken, her face was still damp from crying, eyes swollen, “I overslept, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Rose seemed to accept this without question, voice coming muffled through the door “Good, you needed the rest. Poe wants to see you in his office as soon as possible.” 

“Okay.” Rey said, nodding her head though the other woman couldn’t see her. 

Rose left, and Rey was alone once more. Her head ached and her limbs shook, her tongue felt like sandpaper, and everywhere he had touched burned like her flesh had been pressed to a live thruster. 

Slowly she rose to her feet, then she took a few steadying breaths, centering herself. All of it lingered, even as her body and heart began to steady. She remembered the wall, all of its tallies, each one a day spent suffering in her solitude. She remembered Ben, his touch, his lips at her jaw. In the end he had sounded intense, frightened. Dream Ben had never presented with such emotion before. 

It was jarring, and confusing, so she went to the fresher to splash her face with cold water. It did little to help, and when she caught sight of herself in the mirror she grimaced at the wraith she saw. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes dull, skin sallow; she understood why her comrades were so afraid now. But after her nightmare she was certain they couldn’t help her. 

The only person who could assuage this sickness was a year dead. 

She dressed herself with shaking hands. Clipping her lightsaber to her belt, she paused over her satchel, eyes scanning the bindings of the Jedi texts. Anger coursed through her veins, hot and raw. Silence. All at once they had come to her and then a year of _silence_. Even the voices of the dead had abandoned her to her fate. 

All save Ben. The piece of him which remained with her. 

She took another few steadying breaths, quieting her rage before she considered them again. They were simple and leather bound, wholly inconspicuous to most. But their contents were priceless, and their connection to their framers moreso. _Maybe_, she thought, _maybe I’ll try one more time._

So Rey resolved to meditate over them again come evening, after she had spoken to Poe about work and taken the time to catch up with Finn. She needed something, anything to fill the void in her chest. If she could find purpose as a Jedi once more then maybe she wouldn’t need to rely so heavily on her dreams. They were becoming just as agonizing as her waking hours, her mind determined to torment her. Remembering the tallies, she shuddered. Her skin still seared where Ben had touched her. 

On her way out the door, anxious and tired, another memory returned unbidden. A memory of vomit in the sand, of a dimly lit canteen, of her saber illuminating each mote of dust in the putrid air as she carved a man open. 

_At your core_, she thought, _That is all you will ever be. It is your legacy, Rey._

It was the kind of thought she had become adept at ignoring, even if it made sickening sense if she dwelled on it. Rey Skywalker was her best defence against it. She hated Rey Skywalker nearly as much. 

Shivering, she shut her door and stepped out into the sterile, white hallway. Poe would provide her with sufficient distraction.

*

The memories that followed the birth of Kylo Ren escalated in their brutality with each passing episode. He was belittled, and beaten, and shot full of lighting. Each memory ended with him curled up on a cold, barren bunk deriding himself for the light that he couldn’t squander. No matter how hard he tried.

Then Ben would be yanked forcefully from the memory and be rushed headlong into the next. It was agony. He was never given a moment to rest or process what he was seeing. As he watched himself be undone time and time again, he was acutely aware that there would be no reprieve. It was torture of the hightest degree. He had cried at first, panicked as each memory took hold and once more became a part of his person. 

What a broken creature he was. 

Having lost count many motions past, he was simply numb. What Ben Solo had suffered while under the care of his family was amplified magnitudes now that he was beholden to Supreme Leader Snoke. Kylo Ren was a shivering shell of a man, barely clinging to his wretched existence. Every action he took was to honor a legacy that Snoke had spun into his head. The dark dregs of lineage hung about him as the voice of his dead grandfather guided him from beyond. 

Each memory was an echo of the last, on and on they went and on and on Ben was dragged with them. He was beginning to wonder if this was all he had ever been, if he would soon witness the death of Kylo Ren, and by extension, himself. Alone, touch-starved, terrified and brimming with hatred. 

When he came to a memory of luscious green world, something felt different. The air sparked with a sensation which was utterly kairotic as he watched himself plunge gracelessly through forest underbrush, breath heavy through his mask. Ben wondered at how insufferably hot Kylo must have been beneath his robes, the air was sticky and humid. 

The buzz that encompassed everything seemed lost on the pillaging Kylo, he appeared to be keen on something that Ben had not yet detected. Like a loth wolf hot on a scent trail. In the distance he could hear blaster fire, and overhead TIE fighters shrieked through the sky. A small battalion of storm troopers trailed the dark apprentice, Ben could sense their fear. 

Trailing along beside Kylo Ren he wasn't given the chance to truly take in his surroundings as they rushed by, leaving no opportunity to attempt to deduce his location. But as the foreboding trembling of the Force began to climb towards some unknown crescendo, such details were lost in the din. Something was coming. Something climacteric within the tale of Kylo Ren loomed before him and he could not see it for the mask obscuring his eyes. 

They tore through the forest until they came to a small break in the trees. Kylo Ren stopped abruptly and the troopers fanned out at his order. He must have detected something, or someone. Ben could feel nothing but the vibrations of air around him. The tips of his fingers tingled, his mouth was dry. A play of fate was about to unfold and he felt his insides seize with anxiety. Was this the moment he would see himself felled? If that happened would he cease to exist? 

What transpired next was a blur of crimson and blaster fire. 

The step of his shadow was predatory light as he stalked between the trees, breath deep and steady. Ben’s gaze wandered as well, flitting from trunk to trunk. For a moment everything became deathly still as the sound of muffled breathing met his ears. 

As Kylo rounded the tree from which it was emanating, Ben held his breath, anticipating the end of his spirit journey. Surely this must have been the equivalent of his life flashing before his eyes. He braced himself for the end. 

But it was only a girl. Small and dressed in desert garb. She was beautiful. The sight of her stunned him, sending him into a daze as she took on the infamous Kylo Ren with only a blaster and her wits. 

By the time Ben returned, Kylo had her on her knees, his saber held beside her neck. Her eyes were wide with fear, breath burdened with it. Ben felt ill at the sight, not just due to his assault of an innocent, but because something seated more deeply within him was moved by the fear in her eyes. Had his body accompanied him to this place he would have been shaking with a confusing cocktail of rage and bubbling grief. He would have shielded her. He _wanted_ to. 

It didn’t make sense. He didn’t know her, at least not yet. 

His vision was beginning to swim when Kylo spoke, “She’s seen the map. We have what we need.” 

Then the black shell of Ben Solo closed the splayed fingers of his hand and the girl collapsed, unconscious. Ben lurched at that, dizzying outrage bubbling up from within. Kylo took the girl in his arms and whisked her away. He carried her like a reaper might a maiden, for all his brutality he showed some gentleness in that. Uncharacteristic for the creature he had become. 

Ben wondered if he sensed something unique within her, or if Kylo Ren simply found her beautiful as well. 

The memory was an odd change of pace. No torture or murder, just the girl. A deviation from the norm which was welcome, though perhaps a bit confounding, Ben thought. 

Then the memory aligned with his own, falling into place within the puzzle that he was. The girl… there was no name to attach to her yet, but he felt as though his entire body were alight. In that moment, when Kylo Ren had pried into her mind and gleaned the information he sought, he had sewn the seeds of _something_ momentous. 

Ben could not recall what that something was, because he had not yet reached it in the timeline of these torturous recollections. Around him the jungle of Takodana began to blur and vanish, giving way to darkness once more. 

Ben could not unsee her face, the cut of her cheekbones and the bow of her lip. Her eyes had been so afraid. Despite not even knowing her name, he knew he never wanted to see that fear again. His chest twisted with feelings he could not place because they still lacked their context within his psyche; grief, envy, unmitigated joy, warm things, and soft things, and things so blazingly intense they made his eyes water. 

Through the blackness, the voice returned, _You are strengthening with each passing day._

He still hurt, his chest still throbbed as though it had been run through with a saber. His voice was hoarse when he pled for answers, “Who was she? What was her name? I didn’t hurt her, did I?”

The thought of bringing harm to her… his head throbbed. Around him the darkness pulsed with tiny pinpricks of white light. They danced over his vision. But he only saw the girl.

_I cannot say_, the voice replied, _I can only encourage you to keep moving, you cannot stop now._

Remembering all the agony of his turning and torture, Ben rolled through the blackness, groaning. The flurry rush of pain had been too much, he felt weakened. And now he was plagued by the face of a phantom woman. Brown hair, and tanned skin. Hazel eyes and a wide, soft mouth. 

He felt hot, an odd sensation stirred in his middle. It was embarrassing, but the voice did not comment on his flushed state. 

_She is important to you, Ben Solo,_ she acquiesced, _Onward, and you will encounter her again._

Heaving a sigh, Ben waited for the next memory to descend. But none came. A moment to rest, finally. 

He shut his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the amazingly kind comments on the previous chapter. I really do become giddy each time my email dings with a notif. I hope this chapter is equally satisfying <3


	5. the dead speak.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rey reached out, across the base, and the planet, the whole damned galaxy, to the edges of existence she expanded her consciousness. She reached until she felt it, a flicker of something familiar so far away that she could not fathom it’s distance. Perhaps even time stood between them. Space. Reality._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is shorter than usual but that's because next chapter is the first smut, which is going to be long one ;)

As he watched Kylo Ren interrogate the girl he wanted to _strangle_ him. He was sloppy upon entry into her mind and Ben could see the pain in her expression as she fought, teeth bared. Even under duress there was something incomprehensibly gravitational about her; beautiful in her ferocity. She did not break under Kylo Ren’s pressure, but pushed back, digging with equal ineptitude into his mind and pulling forth his own well kept hurts. 

_Vader_. The dark lineage that did not truly exist, Kylo’s great shame that he did not live up to the imagined prestige of his late grandfather. 

Ben remembered her name then Rey. Just Rey. It fit her, all sun-tanned and wild. She was from Jakku, she was no one. 

Clearly, not to him. To him she was everything, or she would be. 

Even Kylo, with all his pomp and pride, was stunned and then enamored by her strength. 

_Rey_, Ben thought, _Rey Rey Rey Rey Rey._

She was Force sensitive. Kylo’s— and by extension Ben’s— equal. Something within Kylo snapped into place, and for a moment he was viscerally aware of the girl’s own loneliness, how it mirrored that which dwelled in the darkest depths of him. 

Ben exhaled a sigh of relief when his shadow retreated, choosing to cause no further harm to Rey. _Rey_. He wished there was a way for him to pause the dream sequence so he might take a moment just to observe her passively. He knew nothing of her beyond her name and her loneliness, but something innate within him had already decided he would move _galaxies_ for her. 

With Kylo’s exit, the dream was done, and Ben was cast back into darkness to dream of Rey some more. They weren’t memory dreams, just dreams of his own manufacture. Dreams of touching, of kissing, sometimes more. Often the voice would rouse him before they went too far, but this dream different. 

From somewhere beyond the blackness, he felt a sudden, intense attraction. A pull to a place he physically could not manifest, and yet—

He opened his eyes to behold his surroundings, they were grey and modern. There was a bunk suspended from the wall across from him. On it, tangled in sheets, was the object of this fantasy. Though he could not see her face, he could tell by her voice, soft and steady. 

“Be with me,” she said, over and over, “Be with me, be with me, be with me.”

_I love you_. The sentiment echoed between them, though Ben could not deduce its origin. It made his heart stutter in his chest, he felt warm. He did love her. He loved her. 

Ben smiled, eager to grant her wish, _be with me_, “Rey, I’m here.”

*

Rey’s meeting with Poe went well, he agreed to allow her to participate in the final push to extinguish the First Order. Caveat being; only as long as she remained on base in her off time so her health could be monitored. Rey had accepted, and they shook on it.

“We could use someone like you out there, anyways,” Poe remarked offhandedly as he accompanied her to the hangar, “You know, laser sword and all. Scares the piss out of ‘em.” 

A scowl tugged at the corners of Rey’s mouth, but she made a soft sound of agreement. _Someone like you_. He meant nothing by it, and she knew that. But at the back of her mind a name echoed, almost accusatory; _Palpatine._

Finn was lounging in the hangar while Rose worked on a y-wing. He smiled at the sight of Rey. Poe’s com buzzed with a coded message and he huffed, waving goodbye before even getting the chance to say hello. 

Rey was secretly relieved. One less person to contend with, one less volley of questions she would inevitably have to dodge. 

“Hey, sleepyhead! Good to see you up.” Finn jumped to his feet and pulled her into a hug. 

Rose rolled out from under the ship, wiping her hands with an oil blackened bandana, “We were waiting for you, want to grab a late lunch with us?” 

Rey wasn’t hungry, but she was never hungry. And if she wanted to maintain her new agent status with Poe should would need to at least feign compliance and willingness to recover. She smiled and lied through her teeth, all the while remembering her dream. The tallies. Ben’s hands on her body. His lips on her skin. 

“Sure.” She licked her lips, “I’m starved.” 

The statement was almost morbid enough to make her laugh, skeletal as she was. Finn and Rose glanced nervously at her and then each other. 

They ended up in the on base canteen again. Rey managed a few bites of bread and some steamed vegetables, which seemed to appease both Rose and Finn. She allowed herself to loosen up a bit with a glass of Corellian brandy, but she was careful to steer conversation away from herself. They didn’t need to know of her tumult, they could never understand it. 

“I’ve been practicing a bit,” Finn admitted at one point. 

Rey quirked a confused eyebrow at him, head beginning swim as the bartender refilled her glass. 

“I’ve been practicing reaching out, like you showed me on Ajan Kloss.” He was beaming at her. Rose wore an amused expression. 

She sipped her liquor, “Oh. That’s good.” 

What else was she supposed to say? What did he expect from her? If she exploded into the tirade which bubbled in her throat they would know how unhinged she had become. The Force was dangerous, she wanted to say. It will only bring you death and pain. She thought of Ben, and her grip tightened on her glass. 

“I’m getting better at sensing emotions and intent, I think.” He was still smiling, obliviously, “I don’t want to become a Jedi or anything, but do you think you could show me a few tricks sometime? Maybe—

The glass cracked and shattered in her palm, cutting up her fingers and then dousing them in stinging alcohol. Rey’s face was impassive, but her hands shook as she stood up from the table. All around them the canteen had fallen silent at the sound of shattering glass. 

Rey looked between the mess and her bloody hand and said icily, “I’m going to return to my quarters. I’ll see both of you tomorrow.” 

Neither called after her, neither pursued. She could sense their mortification and was glad for it. Perhaps the message would be understood without her having to speak the words aloud; the Force would take from you everything you loved. It was dangerous, and silent. Rey hated it. 

She left a trail of blood in her wake as she made her way back to her quarters. People stared as she passed, bewildered by her brisk step and the obvious wound in her hand. But none of them offered help, because they were afraid. Because they knew she was the last Jedi. Skywalker. _Palpatine._ She hated how they all knew, hated that her dark lineage had become an open secret whispered in seedy bars the galaxy over. _Did you hear? Did you know? Skywalker is just a cover. How could she be the last Jedi? What happened to General Organa’s son?_

It was her greatest shame. It seemed she would never find true reprieve from it, she was alone. It was her dark burden to bear, and she felt as though she might crumble beneath its weight. 

Upon returning to her quarters she went straight to the refresher, picking tiny shards of glass from her palm over the sink. Once it was free of debris she ran it under the faucet, rinsing away the blood and revealing the full extent of the damage. Nothing a few bacta patches couldn’t mend, but when she opened the mirror cabinet she found it void of a first aid kit. 

Right. She _was_ in the military headquarters of the New Republic, safely stationed on a world in the galactic core. They didn’t need to have first aid available in every room, this was a place of politics, not war. Any minor injuries could be tended to in the infirmary. 

Rey didn’t want to deal with any more sentients. She was tired of the sideways looks and whispers, and the harmless comments that would inevitably send her careening back into despair. Still, her hand bled. But Rey had spent over a decade of her life tending to wounds without modern amenities. 

It had already been doused in alcohol, the painful part was through. Wincing as she twisted her palm, Rey removed her top, leaving her in only her trousers and a breast band. She tore a long strip of fabric from the hem of the shirt, and wound it carefully around her palm. She tucked it, and marveled numbly at her work. It would take a week or so to heal, but her bandage would hold. 

She stood in the fresher for a quiet moment, head buzzing, body still warm with alcohol. The morning felt like a distant memory, and when she stepped back out into the tiny bedroom, her eyes didn’t so much as linger on the texts. 

It wouldn’t matter. If she meditated on them she would only be met with further quiet. Abandoned by the force. The truth of it was that the voices had only come to her because Ben was in the pit. She had been their last, desperate option to destroy the evil that had tainted the Force for so long. Rey was meant to stay dead along with her grandfather, she was meant to have died the last Palpatine. Ben’s choice to save her, to give her his life, had been an aberration from that which was meant to be. _She_ was the unbalance in the Force. 

It was a terrible truth that she had known from the moment he died in her arms. Ben was the last Skywalker, the light had always shone bright and strong from within him, even in his darkest moments. He had always felt it, his greatest strength perceived to be his greatest weakness. 

Rey was monster. The last in a line of many monsters. 

It should have been her. It was _supposed_ to be her. 

Hollow, she crawled into her bunk and wrapped herself in a blanket. She was guilty, filled with shame and afraid of the silence all around her. The living Force had abandoned her. The cosmic Force felt alien and distant. 

She didn’t care. 

All Rey wanted was to see Ben again, to ease this ceaseless aching in her chest. She loved him, _Force help her_ she would always love him. He had died in her arms. It was unfair. He was gone, forever beyond her reach. 

Except in her dream, he had touched her then. It had felt real. 

They were a dyad in the Force, that one could live on without the other, even as a shadow such as she… it seemed unlikely. Perhaps that piece of him that had never left her, that lingered in her unconscious mind, could be called out. Maybe Ben wasn’t really dead. 

Letting out a shuddering breath, Rey shut her eyes and clutched at the blanket. She cleared her mind of everything but her memory of Ben, the last one she had, a brief moment of happiness as he smiled. 

“Be with me.” She said, “Be with me, be with me, be with me.” 

And after her plea she thought, _I love you. I love you. Come back to me. I love you._

Rey reached out, across the base, and the planet, the whole damned galaxy, to the edges of existence she expanded her consciousness. She reached until she felt it, a flicker of something familiar so far away that she could not fathom it’s distance. Perhaps even time stood between them. Space. Reality. 

Hope fluttered unbidden in her chest and then—

“Rey.” 

She was pulled from her meditation by a sudden presence in her quarters. It was powerful, bright, achingly familiar. 

“Rey,” he said, “I’m here.” 

Slowly, tears already gathering in the corners of her eyes, Rey pulled the blanket away from her face. And there he was, leaning against the opposite wall, slumped slightly forward. He was naked, and his body was still bruised in some places, but he was otherwise whole. He was smiling. 

“Ben.” She breathed in disbelief. He was there, in her quarters with her. Not a ghost, nor a dream. She could feel his presence in the Force as clearly as she had on Takodana, on the Supremacy, on Exegol. 

She scrambled from her bunk and onto the floor, crawling to him in her desperation. When she touched his cheek she found it soft and real, flesh pliant under her palm. His dark eyes glittered under the fluorescent lights. She could even smell him; salt and earth and _man_. 

Perhaps the Force was not so cruel after all. 

Rey kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took another confidence hit this week because something unrelated to fandom brought me down. I hope everyone enjoys. <3
> 
> Come talk to me on twitter/tumblr (@bitt3rbones/dvrkrey) I'm lonely.
> 
> **Edit**: because I see a lot of folks in the comments hoping he isn't some sort of Force trick or illusion; we aren't even halfway through this fic yet. Keep that in mind <3


	6. bone deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They were sloppy but quick to learn. Teeth scraping, pulling back, tongues seeking, they found a rhythm. It came easily, almost instinctively. Because they were a dyad in the Force, one made two, and Rey had wanted this since the throne room, since Starkiller. She had wanted this before she had known what _this_ was, what it entailed, how tied up in her destiny this man would become. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that Ben does not have all of his memories back yet... and also remember we aren't even halfway done with this story yet <3
> 
> Smut this chapter! It isn't supposed to be super sexy, but I do hope it still reads well.

Rey savored the soft press of his mouth against hers. Stifling the memory of the last time, she leaned into him, hands pressing tentatively to his bare chest. Her wounds twinged at the pressure, but she ignored them. Nothing could take this moment from her. She needed it. She needed to feel him again, warm and alive under her touch. 

When she pulled back she took a moment to marvel at him, at his presence. Ben was there, he was _really_ there. Bright in the Force as he had ever been. Alive. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, disbelieving still, despite all the evidence. 

Rey traced a finger from Ben’s brow to his jaw, following the path her saber once took. Starkiller felt eons past and the scar she had left was gone entirely, leaving only soft, pale skin in its wake. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” She breathed, settled between his bare thighs. She kissed him again, gentle and chaste, neither of them were well practiced. Suddenly her stomach was full of butterflies, her limbs buzzing with nerves. Like a lovestruck teenager she was fawning, trying to ignore his nudity but unable to keep her gaze from flitting between his legs. A flush spread across her cheeks. It felt so normal, so mundane. One of the many things her desolate existence on Jakku had refused her was this nerve-wracking sensation of first love. His lips were soft. She never wanted to stop kissing him. 

“I’m here.” He replied when she pulled back. He was grinning ear to ear, cheeks dimpled. It made her think of Exegol, how he’d smiled then. How he’d died.

Letting out a shuddering breath Rey ducked her face into his shoulder, biting her lip, fighting back a torrent of tears that had gone a year unshed. Butterflies melting away into acrid agony that stung her eyes and made her stomach turn. The tenderness of the moment overshadowed by her inability to forget. Like a shadow always looming, Exegol lingered in the back of her mind. Her joy was usurped by dread, because beautiful things were born to die. A sob tore from her chest. 

Cautiously at first, just his fingers and hands, then all at once, Ben embraced her. Arms winding tight around her waist and crushing her to his chest. 

“It’s okay.” It sounded like a promise, “I’m here now.” 

Rey wept in deep, heaving, mournful gasps. Clutching at Ben and choking on air between her sobs as what might have been a lifetime of grief spilled into the narrow space between them. She wanted to ask a million questions, had a million things to say, but all of it was lost to her pain. She couldn’t speak for her wracking shoulders and the unending tears. 

Ben held her. He kissed her hair and stroked a broad hand over her back. He held her as her nails raked over his skin, as she pounded her fists against his chest in unbridled rage and begged to know _why?_. Why did he do it? Why did he give his life to her and then leave her so completely and utterly alone? It wasn’t supposed to be that way. It should have been _her_.

Through it all, he held her. Until her lungs and throat burned raw from her wails and her muscles were limp with exhaustion. Mind foggy, she hiccupped into his neck, hiding her swollen eyes from him. Ashamed by her outburst, perhaps, but more so she feared that if she looked up he would be someone else, or have vanished entirely. 

“I’m here.” He breathed again, once she had gone still in his arms. And maybe it was strange that his emotions didn’t rival her own, but Rey disregarded that. It didn’t matter. Because he was there. 

Hiccuping she sat back to gaze at him once more. Soft black hair and dark brown eyes. And he was naked. Force, _he was naked_. She’d seen his chest before, but that had been but an appetizer for the feast that was the whole of him. Rey traced a careful finger between his pecs, following the line of his body down his abdomen. He was a large man, in all aspects. And beautiful, she’d never met anyone so uniquely beautiful as him. 

Her chest still felt hollow, her throat raw from crying, her eyes chaffed and dry. Emptiness had been her existence for an entire year, her whole life in some regards, and now before her sat the solution. 

“I’m sorry,” Ben whispered, leaning close. His forehead bumped hers, and she made to shift backwards, but he caught her bicep in a gentle hand. “I’m here now. I know I was gone but I’m here and I want…” 

His gaze was glassy, sable eyes distant. Not entirely present, struggling to remain. Rey swallowed back fear that he might fade away again, his outline was still sure and solid, unwavering. 

“What do you want, Ben?” Rey knew what she wanted. Maybe it was wrong to want such a thing so soon, when so much remained unclear. But she had been empty for so long, a piece of herself lost with him. She wanted him to press her down on the bunk and make her feel whole again. 

Sensing her desire he sucked in a sharp breath. When he replied his tone was irresolute, as if he didn’t fully grasp the meaning of their exchange, “You?” 

Shutting her eyes, Rey breathed in his breath and whispered, her heart thundering in her chest, “_Okay_.” 

She couldn’t tell who initiated the kiss, perhaps they had met in the middle, equally starved for physicality. But instigation hardly mattered when it was so immediately intense. Those few which they had shared before had been chaste and soft, whispers of untold wants pressed between closed mouths. Now all of that bashful pretense crumbled away into aching need. 

They were sloppy but quick to learn. Teeth scraping, pulling back, tongues seeking, they found a rhythm. It came easily, almost instinctively. Because they were a dyad in the Force, one made two, and Rey had wanted this since the throne room, since Starkiller. She had wanted this before she had known what _this_ was, what it entailed, how tied up in her destiny this man would become. 

Her hands roamed his body as they kissed, stopping just short of his cock where it had stirred to life between his thighs. Pulling away to catch her breath, Rey let her fingertips trace along the ‘V’ of his hips. The bruises that remained there perturbed her, but the way his muscles jumped beneath her touch made her pupils blow wide. 

Meeting his eyes, she found his expression equally desperate. His fingers played at the hem of her top, and she helped him pull it over her head. Her undressing was rather unceremoniously. Quickly and clumsily they peeled away the layers— her breast band, trousers, and simple white underwear— until the only skin that was covered was her bandaged hand. 

Hands dwarfing her waist, Ben’s eyes languidly followed the hard cuts and juts of her malnourished body. He didn’t seem put-off or revolted like she feared, but his brows knitted in concern. 

Rey shook her head, denying his worries before he could give them voice, “Living without you was hard, but you’re here now. I’ll be okay.” 

Ben’s full lips parted as if he were going to speak, but she didn’t let him, standing on her toes and crushing her mouth to his. They melted into one another, into the hot press and slide of their lips. 

Ben’s hands found Rey’s ass and squeezed in a way that made her squeal. Moaning in reply, he began to walk them backwards towards the narrow bunk, cock jostling awkwardly between their bellies. Chuffing, Rey broke away again, grabbing him by the hand and closing the few feet swiftly. She sat pointedly on the side of the mattress, uncertain that any other position would fit on the narrow stretch of bunk. 

Ben planted his broad palms on either side of her hips and kissed down her throat, taking a moment to nip at the divot of her collarbone before drawing her into another searing kiss. All of her anxiety had dissolved away, leaving Rey near electrically ecstatic. Ben was here. Ben was alive and with her and they were going to… she didn’t know what to think of it yet. 

Making love felt dishonest, because they hadn’t yet whispered those precious words yet, true as they might’ve been. Sex felt too clinical. She determined that she would decide what it was after. Besides, his hands pressing her gently back onto the thin mattress were distinctly distracting. They spanned her waist easily, thumbs meeting under her navel. His lips burned a trail over her flesh. Nuzzling momentarily between her small breasts he murmured quietly. His voice was low and tremulous, and she couldn’t make out the words as his lips formed them against her skin. 

Raking her fingers through his hair she asked, “Have you done this before?” 

He met her curious stare with glittering black eyes, and she felt a pulse of warmth between her legs. Rising up and centering his wide body between her knees, he shook his head, “I don’t know.” 

Rey didn’t have time to process the strangeness of that answer before he was kissing her again; her breasts and jaw and throat. 

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was husky, almost disbelieving, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Flushing, she took his face between her hands and pulled him up to kiss her again, locking her legs around his waist to hold him over her. It was a slow, sweet thing, and she could feel the slide of his cock between her thighs, his hips rocking with half-conscious motion. Her hands caressed up and down the switching muscles of his back, and she whined high in the back of her throat as his erection angled awkwardly past her center. 

“Ben,” she warbled, “Ben, please.” 

Not needing to be told twice, he reached between them, clumsily aligning himself with her slit. The head bumped her clit, then dropped to pressed snugly to her opening. Ben glanced from between their bodies to meet Rey’s eyes. His were wide and wanting, as if he were asking one final time for permission. 

“Please, Ben.” She half sobbed, fingers raking his back. 

Puffing his cheeks, sable gaze unwavering, he eased his hips forward. With a muffled, _Kriff_ and a blood tinged slide, Rey felt whole again.

*

It was wrong, Force, he knew it was wrong. It wasn’t his time yet, he wasn’t supposed to be here. She knew things he didn’t yet know, he wasn’t her Ben. But she was so sad, so soft and small and achingly beautiful. How could he deny her? How could he shun this thing they were doing when it felt so impossibly right? 

He settled between her thighs, cock throbbing painfully as his inexperienced hand stumbled to find her entrance. And then, with her permission, he pressed forward. He watched as her near reverent expression morphed into pain at his intrusion, and he moved to bottom out as quickly as he could. He didn’t like the thought of Rey in pain. 

Under him, Rey sucked in a sharp breath, hands coming to clutch at his biceps. She was tight to an almost uncomfortable degree. Wet, but not quite wet enough for him to comfortably rut. 

“Big.” She explained, shifting her hips, and even though it wasn’t intended as praise, Ben’s ego still swelled, “It’s okay. Please, move.” 

She still sounded pained, so he leaned forward to kiss her as he began to slowly pump his hips. He didn’t want to look down and see her blood on his cock, and he didn’t want her to either. Ben wanted her to feel him, the push and pull of their bodies and the press of his mouth. He wanted her to know how beautiful she was, how he loved her even though he did not know her, not yet. 

Slowly, her body began to relax, and the vice-like grip of her cunt began to ease. Wetness began to gather, her body slickening, the pass of his own easier with each slide. Rey began to shift beneath him, mewling into his mouth, fingers trailing his sides to feel his muscles switch with each thrust. 

Breaking the kiss with a wet _smack_ he pressed their sweaty foreheads together, trying to keep his pace even and slow. He could already feel himself climbing, and he didn’t want to leave her unfulfilled. But her breathy moans played like erotic music over his earsdrums, volume ever increasing, and the tight, wet clench of her was overwhelming his senses. 

She sublime under him, around him, undulating her tight little body as he sheathed himself again and again. Ben’s control over his higher functions began to slip, and he ducked his face into her shoulder, hips stuttering rough and erratic. 

“‘m close,” Rey slurred into his ear, nails biting into his shoulders, “Please, ‘m so close.” 

He could feel it in the pull of her muscles, the wetness that dripped under them, staining the sheets. His own body swelled in response, fire taking hold low in his belly as he delivered the penultimate thrusts. Something radiant sparked between them then, threads mending and binding themselves as sensations bled and traveled between them. He felt the tight, hot clench of Rey’s cunt around him, but also the sharp sweet sensation of being fucked. 

Ben shut his eyes and gasped at the unfamiliarity of that pleasure alongside his own. It was too much, body alight he buried himself deep, cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm. Rey came simultaneously, and whatever this erotic, numinous thing between them was, it allowed him to feel her release. White hot, the sensation of it all overwhelmed him and he collapsed forward, narrowly avoiding crushing his partner by catching himself on his forearms. 

They rode the aftershocks, then more aftershocks as they echoed between them. They kissed and sucked caressed until their lips were swollen and their bodies began to ache with the exhaustion of what had just transpired. 

Wordlessly, Ben rolled onto the narrow bunk, pulling Rey onto his chest. His feet stuck off the end, and Rey gave a breathless laugh, nuzzling into his shoulder. 

“You’re like a luggabeast.” She said, smiling. Her smile was beautiful, it took his breath away, “So big.” 

A flush spread over her cheeks, and he felt some of his come drip out of her and onto his thigh. She craned her neck to kiss his jaw, pushing strands of black hair away from his ear, lips brushing the delicate shell, “I love you, Ben.” 

She whispered the words like a cherished secret. In that thing which had formed between them he felt immense warmth, affection, relief. Her honey eyes were wide and wet with tears once more. Ben didn’t want to see her cry, she had already cried so much. 

“I love you, too.” He replied, and it wasn’t a lie. He did love her, with all of his being he loved this girl. Every fiber of his existence was branded with her in a way he could not yet comprehend, but that didn’t matter, because he could still speak the words with truth and confidence. Rey deserved that. With her body as lean and bony as it was he knew she struggled. At least he could give her this, his love. 

Rey shuddered and sighed, sallow eyelids fluttering closed. Between them the thing he couldn’t name hummed, low and sweet, a steady thrum of muted emotions. He felt her contentedness, her relief, her joy. Kissing her hair, his eyes roamed the naked expanse of her body where it sprawled over his. His fingers traced each of her ribs, and along the divot then swell of her hips. 

Her hand, splayed on his chest, was bandaged with a scrap of torn fabric, frayed about its edge. It was clearly her own work. He had noticed it before, but in the haze of his lust he hadn’t spotted the red bleeding through the hastily placed wrap. It was fresh, still weeping. 

He hummed, and lifted her hand off of his chest. Struck by the sudden impulse that he could help, somehow. The thought came unbidden, a fraction of a piece of a memory. The knowledge that the Force could heal, at a cost. But costs didn’t matter when Rey was bleeding. He hated even the thought of it, and as he peeled the bandage away he felt his blood begin to boil. 

It was a series of gashes across the inside of her palm and fingers, they were split wide, two of them were near to the bone. 

Rey stirred on his chest, but didn’t bother to lift her head. She was exhausted, fucked out. He could feel it through their fledgling bond, or perhaps it wasn’t fledgling, but reforged. 

“No one hurt me,” she explained, feeling his outrage, “I broke a glass, that’s all.” 

“Pretty gnarly for broken glass,” He said dryly, tossing the soiled bandage onto the floor. 

“I was angry.” 

Ben hummed and sandwiched the wounded hand gently between both of his. She was so small, utterly dwarfed by him, fingers vanishing beneath his. Rey winced at the pressure, but said nothing, eyeing him with uncertainty. 

Exhaling, Ben shut his eyes and focused on Rey, on her palm and fingers, on the wounds that stung up her arm. They bled still, nerves frayed and vessels torn. He felt them, and then he felt himself. Already dim in this place where he did not belong, pulled out of time, still weak from his own endeavours. True as those things were, he was alive, and life could give life. 

He felt it, warm in his chest, his hands, his fingertips, the Force within him that comprised his existence. Golden and light. He jostled some free, willing it between himself and Rey, directing it towards her wounded hand. He heard her gasp, and felt the steady drip of her blood into his palm taper off. There was warmth there, and when he opened his hands he found her wounds scarred over. Not gone, but healed enough that she didn’t hurt any longer. 

Ben wouldn’t have had the strength to heal them entirely, not when just closing them drained him so. He fell backward onto the single thin, lumpy pillow and shut his eyes. Breath coming shallow. 

“Ben?” Rey whispered, and he felt her prop herself up beside him. Concern vibrated through their bond. 

He huffed and pulled her back to his chest, wanting to relish the feel of her there, pressed against him, skin to skin. He was weak. It had been a stupid thing to do, but he hated the thought of Rey in pain.

“Just tired,” he said, but it was more than that, “I love you.” 

Rey, because she needed to, accepted his explanation and settled back onto his broad chest. Her lids fell closed and her body relaxed against him, breath coming shallow and even. Gazing down at her, a pulse of guilt rattled through Ben, because he could feel himself fading. Soon he would return to the dark place, he would go back to finish out his task and regain the whole of whoever Ben was. 

He would have to leave this shadow of the girl in the forest behind. 

Rey; emaciated, pale skinned, and hollow eyed, had already lost Ben once. He questioned whether she would survive losing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, I have HEA tagged. But I also have Unplanned Pregnancy tagged, and Darkside Rey, we have some legwork to do, and there will be more angst (and smut), but you WILL get a happy ending. I promise. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Remember you can always hit me up on my socials, I'm friendly <3


	7. Rendered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She remembered how he’d kissed her, touched her, made love to her as gently as he could. She remembered how he had breathed the words _I love you_ with such unyielding reverence, how his black eyes glittered like opaque gemstones, full of hope and want. But also they had swam with apprehension, as though he were moving blindly, trying his best to follow the steps of a dance he hadn’t learned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't yell at me I _did_ tag angst.
> 
> (Short update, I know. But I wanted to keep these scenes self contained.)

When Rey woke, she found Ben already awake beside her. His eyes were half lidded and his hand was limp where it rested on her hip. He probably hadn’t slept at all. 

Faced with him in the sobering cold of her quarters, mind washed of unrepentant desire, she could no longer deny that there was something strange about him. In the way he spoke, his cadence, even the subtleties of his scent were different, somehow. 

She remembered how he’d kissed her, touched her, made love to her as gently as he could. She remembered how he had breathed the words _I love you_ with such unyielding reverence, how his black eyes glittered like opaque gemstones, full of hope and want. But also they had swam with apprehension, as though he were moving blindly, trying his best to follow the steps of a dance he hadn’t learned. 

Warm and sick with love, but also toiling with her growing suspicions, Rey shifted so she straddled Ben’s stomach. His eyes widened, but he didn’t startle. He felt clammy under her touch, and the hairs at the back of her neck began to stand on end. Her body already seemed to understand what was about to happen, but Rey wasn’t yet ready to accept it, not when happiness felt so close at hand. 

Leaning forward, she sealed their lips in gentle, reaffirming kiss. His lips were chapped and cold. Fear settled deep in her middle, turning her blood to ice. She only kissed him harder. Broad hands lifted off of the mattress to caress up and down her thighs. 

When she pulled away she found his eyes still open, distant. 

“You aren’t my Ben, are you.” It wasn’t a question. Those eyes were unfamiliar to her. Not in their color but in their depth, there was something missing from him. 

Head still resting on the pillow, but eyes now trained intently on her, he admitted, “No. I don’t think so, not yet.” 

“Not yet?”

He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t really understand it.” 

“You’re going to leave me again.” Her voice was hollow, she felt weak, numb. 

“I love you,” he replied, and he stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I may not understand why yet, but I know I love you. I know I would die for you.” 

“Don’t say that!” Rey bit, tears springing fresh and hot at the corners of her eyes. She could feel him beginning to fade, his outline wavering, signature growing more distant as though he were being dragged away. 

Confusion flashed across his handsome face and she knew he didn’t know. That he had no memory of Exegol, of his choice to throw everything away. Awash with grief she begged for some sore of closure, some inkling of understanding as to _why_. 

“It’s not fair.” She choked, leaning over him, caressing his face like her touch might spare him a moment longer, “Why’d you do it? The Force is unbalanced because I should have died, not you. The Jedi only came to me because you weren’t there! You were the Skywalker, Ben! It was your legacy and you threw it all away!” 

Rey was shouting, voice raw. Sobs overcame her, wracking her shoulders until speech was lost to her, she could only duck her face into his chest and feel him fade away. It was slow at first, gradual as his hands caressed soothingly at her back. Then all at once. 

Wordlessly, he was gone. But an impression hung in the air, a sentiment imposed on the Force in those final moments before his flame was snuffed out. 

I love you. 

Weeping softly, Rey curled up in the thin sheets. Pressing the pillow to her face she inhaled deeply of his scent, proof that he had been real, that he had laid beside her, rutted over her. Ben Solo had been _real_. Ben Solo had manifested in her quarters, kissed her, loved her and professed his love to her. Ben Solo had healed the wounds of her rendered palm in something like a mockery of his choice on Exegol, and then Ben Solo had faded away again. 

It was a twist of the knife. Something she could never explain to her friends on the base, they’d think she was losing her mind. 

Resigned to bear her newfound burden alone, Rey curled in on herself, still crying and confused. And with Ben Solo’s cum still crusted to her thighs, she whimpered herself to sleep, begging for it to have all been a nightmare.

*

Like an icy hand scruffing him by the nape, Ben was yanked from his place beneath Rey’s hands and back out of time. Into the blackness which enveloped him in its coldness once more. He hadn’t realized its chill before, but now that he knew the fire of Rey’s touch he couldn’t help but shiver in the dark.

_She is powerful_, an unfamiliar voice echoed through the blackness. _Perhaps frighteningly so, to pull you from this place._

Ben still ached with the pain of being torn from her, Rey. He didn’t like how the voice spoke of her, as if she were nothing but a nuisance. 

_It was not your fault that she discovered you before your time._ The voice added, almost amiably. _We will hide you better, now._

“Who is ‘we’?” Ben blurted, still reeling. His head was a rush of disjointed thought and emotion. 

It ignored him, prattling on, _But you are weakened now. And your decision to heal her wounds? A pointless waste of life._

“What do you mean?” Ben spat, swinging his fists into the blackness testily. He’d do it again. He’d do it a million times over. Anything to spare the sight of her blood, her pretty face scrunching with pain. “I’m fine.” 

As if to demonstrate, Ben was suddenly dropped from his odd suspension to stand on an unseen surface. He could barely hold himself upright, every fiber of his ailing being cried out for succor, to collapse and face whatever fate awaited such a withering being. 

Gritting his teeth, he managed to remain upright until he was lifted again, weightless once more. No longer able to ignore it, Ben remained limp, his tired limbs burning down to the bone. He felt like something was eating away at him, flesh and muscle and tendon. Exhaustion, maybe death. 

_You will need to rest._ Came another voice, this one more familiar. _Time is of the essence, but you are useless unless you are fully recovered._

Thinking of Rey, of her pain and of the darkness that had swirled behind her eyes, he doubted he would ever rest again. Not until he was by her side once more. She needed him. 

_You are of no use to her as you are now. You don’t even remember who she is, Ben Solo. You will rest._

“I can’t. I need to see the rest of my memories. I need—

_To rest. Sustaining your physicality outside of this place took energy, healing Rey’s hand took even more. You are wasting away physically._ Its tone was elevated, but Ben wasn’t afraid. _A pivotal moment has passed in the Force this day, and should you continue to argue it’s consequences may go unabated._

Head pounding Ben took a moment to wonder at the absurdity of it all. Maybe he was dead, maybe none of this had actually transpired. Stomach rolling with nausea, he shut his eyes. Behind them he saw Rey’s face; cheeks hollow, eyes dark and sunken, sallow skinned. He knew that was real. True, unmitigated suffering carved deep into the features of a women he was certain he loved. And if she were real, so was this. 

“I will rest.” He agreed, and he felt the very blackness that contained him release some tension, “But first I need you to tell me where I am, and who you are. All of you.”

There was most definitely more than one of them. Steadying himself and feeling outward he could not distinguish them from one another, trying to decipher the presences he detected only caused his head to throb more insistently. It was as if they were innate to the very background hum of the Force itself. 

_ ‘Twas a final wish that brought you here, and none is owed to you but the conditions of said prayer._ A more masculine voice took over. _Perhaps when your slumber is over you will uncover the truth, but for now I bid you rest._

It was no longer a thing of asking. Ben felt his whole body grow leaden, lids heavy. His final thought as he was forced into unnatural slumber was of Rey. Of how desperately he wanted to know her, of how unfair it was that they had laid together then been torn apart. 

He thought of citrine eyes. A scar. A baby’s cries. 

For a moment Ben Solo was terrified. 

Then the blackness swallowed his mind whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last we're going to hear from Ben for several chapters while I work on building the circumstances around Rey. I am currently ill, and fandom has been pretty wrought lately which has me down, but I'm going to try to keep updating at least once a week. 
> 
> And remember, before you lay into me for the angst, _they will get the HEA they deserve_, I just have to fix TRoS to make that happen <3


	8. hearing things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She was gaining weight and muscle. Skin recovering some color as she spent days training in the fields outside Hanna City. By all appearances she was recovering splendidly, and her entire Resistance family was glad for it. But they could not see the brimming darkness that she felt, they could not sense the turmoil which stirred ceaselessly within her guts. Every night she dreamt of Exegol, of Ahch-To, of the Throne room and Takodana. Every night her subconscious sought out Ben, and every morning she would wake alone, blankets kicked aside, shivering in a pool of her own sweat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll be two or three chapters until we hear from Ben again... at least as we know him ;)

Several days passed, and Rey could not make sense of what had occured. Neither did the ache of her emotional wounds lessen. One moment he had been there, bright and alive as the day they’d first met, as beautiful as she had realized him to be on Ahch-To; Ben. It had been Ben. _Her Ben_. And then, the next moment, he was gone. Fading, fleeting as a dream he had vanished out from under her naked thighs. 

She didn’t know if he was real or not, she wasn’t sure it even mattered. He was gone. And she was alone again, and more achingly aware of that loneliness than ever before. 

Here, on Chandrila, surrounded by her friends and allies, Rey was just as alone as she had been on Jakku, or Tatooine. What dwelled within her— Darkness, light, memories of Exegol which she had elected not to share, the very Force itself— these were things that they could not even begin to fathom. They were burdens she was destined to bear alone. 

She ached from the loss of Ben. Left with an immense emptiness in her chest, she felt hollow, and yet things seemed to come easier. The lie she had been telling herself, the promise she had made to her friends to attempt a recovery, Rey managed easily. Because with the loss of her Ben came a shift in her mindset, anger taking precedent above all else, and what such blinding rage sought was a release.

Release could not be had with a broken, withering body. 

_Eat._ She would say to herself each morning as she sat down to breakfast. And though her stomach turned at the sight of food she would give in to the demands of that insistent voice. 

_Train._ It would demand when she only wanted to crawl into her bunk and sleep. But it would hiss its demands until she gave in and shuffled off to the training room so she could make her body strong once more. 

She was gaining weight and muscle. Skin recovering some color as she spent days training in the fields outside Hanna City. By all appearances she was recovering splendidly, and her entire Resistance family was glad for it. But they could not see the brimming darkness that she felt, they could not sense the turmoil which stirred ceaselessly within her guts. Every night she dreamt of Exegol, of Ahch-To, of the Throne room and Takodana. Every night her subconscious sought out Ben, and every morning she would wake alone, blankets kicked aside, shivering in a pool of her own sweat. 

_Get up_. The voice would demand. And she would obey. Showering and dressing and preparing her well worn facade. 

Rey felt as though she were barreling towards something momentous. Moving with such haste that she had nary a moment to catch her breath and take stock of her surroundings; what sights she had passed by and where she might be going. The flight was desperate and the path shrouded in darkness. She feared what might await her at its end, but was helpless to stop her descent. Of their own accord, her feet carried her. Rey simply grit her teeth and followed. 

Two weeks after her encounter with the spectre of Ben, Poe had okayed her to participate in a mission to the Outer Rim. A sweep of Exegol to clean out any remaining Sith worshippers believed to be supplying the remaining tatters of The First Order with weapons, provisions and alternative routes of travel throughout the galaxy. Rey had framed her own involvement as one of recovery, gathering ancient Sith artifacts and tech to be studied and ultimately destroyed, along with assisting with the primary objective. Because she had involved Force mysticism, and Poe, like the rest of the galaxy, considered such to be the jurisdiction of the Jedi, he hadn’t tried to argue. 

Perhaps it was a touch manipulative, but she didn’t care. Rey was hungry for action, for combat, for a change of pace and scenery to help her _forget_. Her skin still burned with Ben’s touch, lips tingling whenever she remembered his kisses. And she was always remembering. Each time she shut her eyes she was staring into the sable depths of his own, familiar and beautiful yet simultaneously alien. A different Ben from a different time, perhaps. Maybe he hadn’t been hers at all, but a pale manifestation of what she could never have back. 

They had professed their love. _She_ had whispered those few tender words to him in a moment of vulnerability. And she had meant them, because they were true. Rey wished she could unspeak them now, and unhear those which he had whispered in return. They made her ears throb and her heart ache. 

She needed this mission. She needed to forget. 

Rey was practically vibrating in anticipation. Even in her year of self imposed solitude she hadn’t remained in one place for more than a few weeks at a time, and always she had kept herself busy with missions and pseudo-mercenary work. Her fingers itched to grip her saber in combat once more, body somewhat recovered and primed from weeks of practicing forms. 

She craved fire, and smoke, the sweet sear of a kyber projected blade rendering flesh in two. _Yes._ A whisper in her ear. _Yes, that is what I want._

Her mouth felt dry. It was the night before they would depart on the mission and her stomach was in knots. She had never really learned how to cooperate with others on the field of battle, and through discussion with Poe and Jannah it had been decided that she would serve as a forward scout upon arrival at Exegol. Still, she was expected to return to the unit, she was expected to play nice and assist. 

It made her uneasy, put her on edge to think of the innocent Republic soldiers relying on her. In a way she felt responsible for them, as a Jedi might. Conversely she felt they would only stand in her way. _They’ll only slow me down._

Rey shook her head as if to clear it and rose up from the floor of her quarters. She had been trying, and failing, to meditate. Centering herself before a mission had once been a mainstay of her routine, but now she found herself unable to sit still for more than a few moments at a time. She was eager, anxious, frothing at the metaphorical mouth at the prospect of combat to come. 

There would be no centering of the self today. No balancing of her internal forces before engaging in this outward war. But, if she was being completely honest with herself, Rey didn’t really care. 

Brimming with nervous energy, she was too anxious to stay still. She pulled on the outer layer of her grey robes and called her saber from her bedside into her palm. She clipped it onto the black leather of the belt that cinched her waist and made for the door. 

The robes were a gift from Kaydel, who had connections to some of the finest designers and tailors in the city. They drew inspiration from the robes Jedi of the previous Republic era had donned, and the garments were custom tailored to fit Rey’s body; with room alloted for her to regain some mass. 

Rey’s only request was that they not be beige like the ones she saw on the holonet. She had worn enough beige on Jakku for a lifetime. What she had received; thin layers of greys and creams with a touch of black in the boots and belt, was more than satisfactory. 

It completed her ensemble, perfecting the Jedi look. It also served to further alienate her from those around her, setting her apart visually. Making the divide between herself and those around her more obvious and drastic. Now she not only _was_ the last Jedi, she looked the part. 

Sighing to herself, Rey made her way out to the landing pad. Positioned just outside the hangar, the mechanics would often leave the massive durasteel doors open for increased airflow from the outside. She took some small solace in the combination of the evening sun and the ambient din of aerospace work. It was a good place to just be, noise dampening her ability to overthink. 

She sat near the edge, savoring the warmth of the sun on her skin. Leaning against a narrow strip of railing, the only thing which stood between her and what must have been a thousand story drop. Rey wasn’t afraid in the slightest. 

_I can’t die._ She thought, oddly. 

She wasn’t given any time to examine it more deeply as Finn’s voice broke through her short lived reverie. 

“Rey!” He called from the hangar doors, hands cupped around his mouth. 

Rey opened her honey eyes and blinked at him, tacitly informing him that she had no intention of moving from her current spot. She was blissfully warm, and the wind felt nice in her hair. So he came to join her. Silvery medals glittered orange in the light of the setting sun. They proudly adorned the left side of his uniform, on his chest, over his heart. They heralded him as the war hero he was. Rey had received no such medals. She had refused them on principle. Ben should have been the hero, she was only a pretender. 

“Excited about tomorrow?” Finn asked as he approached. He remained standing, more wary of the height than she.

Rey gave a weak smile, “Yeah, I am.” 

She didn’t want to elaborate any more than that, lest she reveal something untoward and get herself removed from the mission. Poe would listen to Finn if the latter came to him with concerns. 

“Feeling up to it? Physically, I mean?” The setting sun cast shadows over her friend’s kind face. Rey pretended that she couldn’t see the concern behind his eyes. It was easy to forget that Finn was Force sensitive, that he, unlike the others, might be more in tune with her own internal tumult. 

Rey nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest defensively. “Yes. I’m feeling much better, I’m gaining weight and muscle. I’ll be fine, Finn.” 

“And emotionally?” 

“Also fine.” A convincing lie, she kept her voice steady, eyes trained on the horizon. 

“Don’t lie to me, Rey. Please. I know something’s wrong.” He knelt in front of her, resting a gentle hand on her knee. Rey’s eyes flew to it like she expected his touch to burn. “A few weeks ago I _felt_ something. Like a disturbance, or… I don’t know. But it was _something_, and then all of a sudden you were eating again, and training, and asking to go on missions. What happened, Rey? What’s going on?”

Her cheeks flamed at the revelation that her and Ben’s _activities_ had caused a real and palpable disturbance in the Force. 

_Don’t lie to me._ He had begged. But what else was she to do? The truth was too painful, too terrible. So with all her might and already burgeoning regret, Rey twisted Finn’s mind to make him more amenable to her alternative truth. It was a convincing one, because all good lies were sown from hints of horrific realities. 

“I came to a realization,” she began, slowly, folding the words into his mind with intensity. “I call myself a Skywalker because I am ashamed of what I really am. I became upset, I wasn’t careful in how I directed my rage. That’s what you felt.” 

Even for this lie she dared not say the name aloud. And perhaps this wasn’t so much a lie as an attempt at dodging an entirely different painful truth. 

“This upcoming mission… It feels like a chance for me to prove myself. To begin to live into the Skywalker name. What I am, where I come from…” Her fingers bit into the concrete of the landing pad, tips rubbed raw. “It weighs on me, Finn. I feel like I can’t escape it.” 

She thought of Ben, who had felt so real and bright and alive when he appeared to her, as he made love to her. And she knew that she couldn’t compare. She was no Skywalker, it was only a facade to hide that darkness which lingered within her always. Rey was a Palpatine. But she didn’t want to be. 

She wanted to simply be Rey of Jakku, a nobody once more. She wanted to vanish into the verdant forests of some far flung green world and become lost in the rain and vivacity of its depths, and in the eyes of her long dead love. 

_But that is not who I am_. She shuddered, turning her distant gaze back to her knees, to the weave of her trousers. She was ashamed. 

Finn hardly missed a beat, grinning at her like he held the answer to every problem she had just listed. “Rey, you are a Skywalker. You always were. During the final battle the Jedi came to you, no one else. You defeated Palpatine. That’s all that matters.” 

She wished it were so simple. But how could she explain the ghosts she had seen? The voices she wasn’t hearing, and the voice she was? How could she explain the gaping hole in her chest that could only be filled by a man who was reviled the galaxy over? She couldn’t. 

Rey nodded, climbing to her feet. “You’re right… I’m just overthinking things.” This lie required no mind tricks, it came easily, and with a smile. 

Finn pulled her into a fierce hug, and whispered into her ear, “You’ve been through a lot, Rey. More than most of us understand. But you’re a good person, okay? And we’ve got your back around here, always.” 

When he pulled back he clapped her on the shoulder, “I won’t be here to see you off tomorrow, so, good luck!” 

“Thank you, Finn.” 

They parted ways. Finn returning to Rose’s current whereabouts in the hangar, Rey shuffled off to the canteen to eat a quiet supper alone. Nursing a glass of Corellian brandy on the rocks. She could feel the eyes of Republic soldiers and officers on her whenever she turned her back, her robes grabbing attention wherever she went. Jedi. Skywalker. _Palpatine_. 

Rey brushed it off, because it didn’t matter. Because nothing mattered. Because they were beneath her and she was not just the last Jedi, but the last of her kind. The last Force sensitive individual to possess the ancient knowledge detailed in the Jedi texts, the last to put those techniques to use in combat. 

Let them talk. Let them make assumptions of her character, of her pain. They knew nothing. 

Come morning she would board a transport with twenty-odd Republic soldiers and allow herself to be taken back to the place where her world ended. Come morning Rey would prove herself. She would refind purpose, she would live up to her name. 

_Yes._ She thought, or perhaps it was whispered to her. _Yes you will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the shorter end I know, but again, I feel this was a good place to cut it off. Thanks for reading fam! I know fix-its from smaller creators are a dime a dozen so I am immensely grateful to anyone taking the time to read this. It's a labor of love. <3


	9. two months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling suddenly faint, she was grateful for Poe’s insistence, “...In my condition?” 
> 
> She already knew what it meant. In some way she had known since the moment Ben vanished from her bunk. Something new and precious fluttered between her hips, and it terrified her. Ben was gone, but something of him, _of what they shared_, remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy <3

Geonosis was familiar in the way Tatooine had been. Scathingly hot, mirage dancing off of rolling dune and jagged stone alike, sweat beading on her lip and temples. Orange dust stained the black leather of her boots as she crept along a ridge overlooking an abandoned droid production plant. 

Or it had been abandoned once; now a rogue First Order cell was attempting to make a new home of the place, priming the machines to serve their nefarious purpose once more. Where once the eyes of Count Dooku had overseen the operations in the days preceding the Clone Wars, it was now overrun by the pathetic vermin who sought to replicate his genius. The First Order serving was nothing more than a pale echo of the Empire once again. 

Clicking her tongue she surveyed the roof of the factory, half embedded in rust colored rock. Beyond it she could see the long empty skeletons of spire nests which once housed countless Geonosians. All exterminated. She felt nothing where she once might have felt their ghosts, the lingering impressions of their terror and pain. Perhaps, she thought, they had been extinguished so thoroughly that not even ghosts could remain. The Empire had been known for such thoroughness. 

Hissing, she positioned her torso so that her weight rested on her forearms. Breasts tender, even through her robes. She ignored them; unused to killing, her body had been off for weeks. Stomach turning, mind wrought with vivid, red dreams. 

But she would adjust with time. This was her fifth mission, and with each assignment following the first she had taken more and more joy in the hell she could wreck. A sweet release. The culmination of a lifetime of pain where no one had to get hurt. No one who mattered, at least. She was making the galaxy a safer place while simultaneously soothing her own ails. It was a win-win scenario. 

Ben no longer visited her dreams. Unrelated to the situation at hand, and yet entirely so. She needed to forget. This would help her forget. 

In the distance she spotted a flash of metal in sunlight. Bright, it made her wince. Once, twice, thrice it flashed, signalling to her that the Republic squadron was in position. Rose was leading them today, just over a crest of rust colored stone. Rey could imagine her friends kind, rough face behind her burning eyes. It gave her some strength. She tried to allow the sentiment to empower her, so that she might fight with love. Rey knew that was the right path. But still, bitter disdain embraced her. Her mouth tasted vaguely of salt and rust. 

She remembered her first mission, returning to Exegol; the acrid taste which had lingered in her mouth for days afterward. She had secretly been waiting for Ben, praying that he might manifest, even as a spirit. He never came. It on fueled the unrest she felt now, an aching wound still dominating her chest. 

Drawing in a steadying breath, she let that pain propel her forward. She rose to her feet and leapt down onto a section of exposed roof of the dilapidated plant. She made sure to land as heavily as she could, wanting to draw attention from within. 

Producing her saber from her belt, Rey pressed it through the thick material, which turned molten hot as her blade seared through it. As the spitting yellow blade rendered a narrow crevice, she began to hear the panicked shouts of men below, gathering to meet her distraction, dividing their forces. Good. More for her. 

Once the circle was complete the heavy chunk of detached steel crashed to a conveyor belt below; sending shrapnel and weapon components flying in all directions. The First Order soldiers all dove and ducked, stunned long enough for Rey to safely drop down from above.

This time she landed lightly, gracefully twirling her saber about her body. A dangerous smile graced her lips and she surveyed the paltry assortment of soldiers who slowly emerged from their hiding places. Some still donned stormtrooper armor, dirty and unpolished and missing small pieces about the arms and legs. The rest wore leather armor, or makeshift smelted metals; some only wore the grey woolen officer’s uniforms of the defunct Order. 

“Take me to General Calpernia.” Rey demanded, waving her saber slow and threatening, blades humming sweetly through the hilt. 

There was a long silence; the combatants glancing between one another anxiously, obviously lacking a clear leader. Rey cocked an eyebrow, her fingers tapped impatiently along the length of her lightsaber hilt. 

“I’m waiting.” 

A trooper stepped forward, gulping down her fear. She clutched a blaster across her chest, and her set of armor was the most complete of the lot, sparing the helmet. She wore nothing on her head but a pair of welder’s goggles, the dark skin of her cheeks was smudged with greasy oil. 

“The Order will not die.” She said, her voice shook, her eyes were wide with fear, lit up orange by the glow of Rey’s weapon. 

An answer within a non answer. Rey’s felt a spike of excitement shoot through her at their insolence. 

“Have it your way.” She snarled, voice positively menacing as she spun into an offensive stance, her blade reaching far enough to behead the speaker as she twirled beneath crimson blaster bolts. Meeting no resistance as she severed bone and tendon and sinew alike. The woman was a fool for having stood so close. 

On the edge of her battle crazed consciousness she was vaguely aware of distant shouting, nearly drowned out by the spit of her saber and the shouts of her own enemy combatants. Ten minutes must have passed from the initial signal, Rose and her squadron were beginning their assault on the doors. Rey was meant to rendezvous with them as soon as possible. 

Attention torn, a blaster bolt scathed her right arm, tearing away the black linen wrapping and leaving a nasty burn seared into her flesh. Rey roared, mind becoming whole once more, vision tinting red. 

She let the pain fuel her as she barreled down on the soldier who had shot, rendering his body in two at the waist. His makeshift smelt armor put up no resistance. She killed another by deflecting their own bolt back into throat, and then another by pulling a piece of derelict machinery down with a flick of her wrist, crushing him into the blood stained floor. 

It was a dance she savored; each step of her nimble feet rewarded with a fresh waft of charred flesh and splintered bone. It was the purest form of carnage and chaos and Rey had never felt so light. For a bleeding moment she wasn’t afraid to be alone anymore, and then it was over. 

She didn’t take the time to count corpses as she came back to her senses. But all throughout her immediate vicinity was void of sentient life, only the roaches who scuttled bloodied tracks across the floor kept her company. Wiping sweat from her forehead Rey jogged in the direction of the battle that still raged between the Republic forces and those First Order soldiers she had not managed to distract away.

Her weapon illuminated her path with a deceptive sort of brightness. Her breath came ragged with excitement. The general, Calpernia, would likely be among these last holdouts. It would be a good fight. 

Bursting into a large, open aired chamber, Rey didn’t pause before she tore into the white clad backs of the General’s personal guard. Somewhere in the fray she could sense Rose’s acknowledgement of her presence. The Republic clearly had the upper hand, already the bodies were stacked high; the Order being pushed backwards towards a series of tunnels they had blown into the red rock of the mountain wall. 

They could flee if they wanted; like rats into their holes, cowering under the gaze of a lothcat. It would only be a matter of time before they were dug out and dragged squirming into the open. The thought made Rey giddy. A trooper choked with her saber thrust into his throat.

“Stop!” A woman’s voice shrieked above the din, ringing hoarse through dozens of comlinks. 

Rey did not stop, ducking under another trooper’s punch and then rising up the cut through the armor plating of his side. 

“We surrender! Order troops, drop your weapons. Fall back to me!” 

It was Calpernia, desperately trying to save the last dregs of her pathetic force. Rey lowered her saber as the soldiers did as they were commanded. Their footsteps echoing through the sudden silence as the Republic forces considered what was unfolding. 

They were falling back towards a woman clad in an officer’s garb; surprisingly well kept despite her circumstances. Her hair was wheat blonde, greasy and pulled back into a tight bun. Her mouth was small, eyes icy and exacting. She had emerged from one of the holes they had carved into the mountain side, along with her petty officers. 

Rey’s eyes met Rose’s across the clearing battlefield. Surely, this was their mark. _Calpernia._

Poe wanted her alive if possible, for questioning. Rey was convinced she could tear all pertinent information from the woman’s mind and spare Poe a jail cell. It had been a point of contention between the two up until Rey’s departure, and they had never come to an agreement. 

From the warning look Rose leveled her, Rey assumed Rose agreed with Poe. 

“Should we parley?” Calpernia’s voice boomed across the room, echoing into the high, curved ceiling. She had moved to stand in front of her few remaining men, looking to Rey over a narrow strip of no-man’s-land that had formed between the two groups. 

The General looked surprised when it was Rose who spoke up, not Rey. “Come with us peacefully and I can guarantee the safety of your men.”

Rey’s jaw tensed, knuckles whitening about the hilt of her saber. She didn’t want to let _any_ of them go. No mercy. No quarter. 

_I could break rank._ She thought abruptly. _I could break rank and kill that bitch right now. No one could stop me._

And it was true. One well aimed leap and she could cleave Calpernia in two from above, then contend with the remaining dissidents. 

“And your word is supposed to be enough to assure me of this?” Calpernia sneered. 

“My word is all you have.” Rose replied coolly, her eyes trailing to Rey tacitly. The dual blades of her weapon hummed loudly into the loaded quiet of the room. 

Rey held her breath, hoping secretly that Calpernia would act foolishly. But it seemed the woman was wise enough, and cared for the men under her command in a way not often seen among the Order. She bowed her head and agreed. 

“I will come without a fight.” 

A volley of complaints rose up from her men, but she raised a hand to silence them. 

Slowly, one by one, they filed forward. Outside a prison transport awaited them. Calpernia would be taken directly to Poe. The rest would be taken in for questioning then likely registered with the Republic as former Order and released, per Rose’s word. 

The column’s current path would take them directly past Rey and her fiery blade. Rage bubbled in her belly that they would know such mercy when so many of their victims had not. Ben’s face, bruised and bloody, flashed behind her eyes, and her fingers itched with a righteous sort of hunger. 

_Do it._

As Calpernia stepped within striking distance, Rey lifted her saber, letting one of the blades inhibit the other woman’s path; nearly touching her chest. 

She went still as stone. Real, animal fear twisting into her sour features. Her eyes glowed as she beheld the lightsaber that might end her life. A twitch of Rey’s wrist and it would be done. Her body buzzed with the power of it. 

“Rey!” Rose shouted, nonplussed, then again, outraged, “Rey! Stop it right now!” She was rushing over; boots slapping wetly over the bloody floor. All around them the world had become frightfully still as everyone waited for the last Jedi to act. 

The tendons in Rey’s hand twitched, and Rose must have seen them because she stopped dead in her tracks, as if the slightest movement might spur Rey into irreversible action. 

“Rey,” She cautioned, voice low and clear. “We need her alive. She has information essential to the Republic’s continued survival. Please, please don’t be rash.”

Rey licked her chapped lips, considering Rose’s words for a moment. Then she dropped her weapon, sheathing the twin blades back into the hilt. She gave a smile and angled her body to indicate towards the transports. 

Calpernia was shaking, a line of fabric across the front of her uniform was singed. Cowed by the show of dominance, she slunk past Rey. So did every surviving soldier who followed, heads bowed, terrified to make eye contact. 

Once they were all outside being loaded onto the transports. Rey, Rose, and a few other higher ups remained within the plant to take notes on the operation and count bodies. While their comrades worked, Rose approached Rey, mouth set in a scowl. 

“What the hell was that?” The mechanic snapped. 

Rey blinked down at her, head strangely foggy. She was acutely aware of the scent of blood heavy in the air; salt and sweat and rust all mingling together into a nauseous odor. 

“Just scaring them a little.” She managed; feeling bile rising in her throat. 

This was a familiar thing by now; the fits of nausea and vomiting. But never before had it happened in the field. Rey tried to choke it back, but Rose noticed her sudden paleness and how her body swayed slightly forward. 

The shorter woman placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, brow creasing with concern, “Rey, are you okay? You look—

Gagging, Rey buckled forward, hands on her knees, and wretched onto the bloody floor. Her meager breakfast of a ration bar and all the water she had drank were brought up in a few violent heaves, leaving her empty and choking on nothing. 

When it was over she looked up to Rose who was calling for help, and promptly fainted.

*

She blinked awake from murky darkness to the sound of a heart monitor beeping and the sensation of something cold running along her arm. She rubbed at her tired eyes with the back of her hand then winced as something tugged sharply in the ditch of her elbow.

An IV. It was connected to a bag of clear fluids.

She was in the infirmary. A curtain had been pulled around her bed, creating a tiny partitioned room. It did little to provide quiet or privacy though. Just beyond she could hear the familiar, hushed voices of Kaydel and Poe, and to her left a med-droid treating another patient who whined as it sutured a wound. 

Remembering what had unfolded, Rey swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. They had redressed her in an uncomfortable paper gown. Huffing, she yanked the IV out of her arm, pressing two fingers over the tiny wound to staunch the bleeding. 

This was an exorbitant reaction to what was essentially a stomach bug. She didn’t like the attention places like the infirmary brought to her. And considering she was almost back to a normal weight it hardly seemed necessary. Her eating habits had become almost healthy again, vomiting aside. 

An alarm sounded at the loss of the IV, and the curtain was drawn back revealing a tired looking nurse and a gaggle of concerned friends. 

“Done with the IV then?” The nurse grumbled as he gathered the leaking tube from the floor. From the grouchy timbre of his voice she figured he wasn’t going to bother with reconnecting it. 

“Yes.” She slipped off of the mattress and onto her feet. Poe rushed to steady her but she waved him off irritably, “It wasn’t necessary to begin with. I’m fine.” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “Hardly, Rey. Enough with the tough-lady business. You threw up everything in your stomach then passed out in front of me. In your condition that’s not fine.” 

Rey froze, attention snapping to Rose where she stood beside Kaydel. Poe was still fussing over her, insisting on taking her arm like she might topple at any moment. Their collective energy was… _off_. Rose looked almost angry, Kaydel and Poe were dripping with an odd mix of curiosity and concern. 

Feeling suddenly faint, she was grateful for Poe’s insistence, “...In my condition?” 

She already knew what it meant. In some way she had known since the moment Ben vanished from her bunk. Something new and precious fluttered between her hips, and it terrified her. Ben was gone, but something of him, _of what they shared_, remained. 

The nurse, finished cleaning the puddle of saline from the floor, rose back to his feet and regarded her reserved kindness, “You’re eight weeks pregnant, Ms. Skywalker. What you experienced this morning was a blend of morning sickness and exhaustion. You can’t overexert yourself like that. Your body won’t allow for it.”

Rey sat back on the bed, feeling cold. The world felt surreal, as though every person in the room stood at a thousand yard distance. How could she explain this? What could she say? The baby could only belong to one man, and he had died over a year previous as far as the New Republic was concerned. In their eyes he was still evil. What she felt for him, _what they had done_, would be viewed as the ultimate betrayal on her part by many. Even her friends would struggle to understand. 

In her womb she carried the issue of the scourge of the galaxy. Galactic terror Kylo Ren. She bore the evidence of their union. Her most secret love. 

Kaydel spoke up, “You really didn’t know?” 

Rey shook her head; lips parted slightly to suck in shallow, shaking breaths. She shut her eyes, fingers twisting into the scratchy material of the infirmary bedsheet. 

“No,” she murmured weakly. “No I had no idea…” 

It was a cruel thing; to be made pregnant by a ghost. Or maybe this was physical proof that Ben truly did live yet; somewhere far away, but alive enough to do _this_ to her. But she knew not where he was, or how she might reach him. Where did one even begin to look for their phantom lover? She was just as alone as she had always been. 

Rey sat in silence. Shock taking the breath from her lungs and warmth from her body. In her belly something tiny stirred; something bright, something that should not have existed. 

_Unnatural_. She thought. Or perhaps it was those whispered words again. She did not linger on them. 

Trembling, Rey let numbness overtake her. For a moment she allowed herself to pretend that none of this was real. That the next morning she would awaken in her AT-AT home on Jakku, her tally wall a few hundred strokes stronger. Just Rey. No Force, or Jedi, or Sith. No Finn, or Luke, or Ben. No baby. 

Just Rey. 

_But things are never so easy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't respond to the comments on the last chapter. I've been kind of all over the place and didn't have the time or energy, but I really did read them all I promise <3
> 
> I'm currently taking a mental health break from social media (things aren't great for me right now) but I invite you to follow me there anyways! I'll come back eventually and it's really my only way of communicating with fandom folks <3
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this update. Please comment/kudos, they really do mean a lot to me. They're how I know people care about a work. Nothing's worse than feeling like no one is listening lol. <3


	10. four months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sitting there, on the edge of the cot with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled before the oblong jut of his nose, was Ben. He smirked at her, the scar that bisected his face twisting strangely. His hair was slightly curled with the dampness of the air. 
> 
> “Rey.” He was smiling now, but his dark eyes flashed with a seductive sort of danger. _Fuck_ he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Wasn’t this familiar? He looked… damp. Healthy. Whole. All of his wounds from Exegol vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

The weeks dragged on in much the same fashion as they did before the discovery of her pregnancy. Rey continued to take missions now that her morning sickness was under control; an essential cog in the working order of the New Republic, much to Poe’s disdain. He didn’t like the idea of a pregnant woman heading up his military forces, even if said pregnancy was still a closely guarded secret. 

But none could deny Rey’s skill with a lightsaber and penchant for striking fear into the hearts of her enemies. She was the last Jedi, after all. Renowned the galaxy over for her role in the war and the felling of Palpatine. There was nothing General Dameron could do that wouldn’t draw the attention of his peons. For the time being Rey’s place within the New Republic was secure, fleeting as that security was. Eventually she would no longer be able to mask her condition from the prying eyes of the public. A fact she chose to ignore. 

There was only one push to discern the identity of the baby’s father. In the beginning, when the sting of its existence was still fresh and sharp in Rey’s mind. It was Poe who pushed of course, in the solitude of his office, only Kaydel standing between him and the spitting end of Rey’s lightsaber as she lashed out in irrational rage. The memory of his wide, dark eyes lit up fiery orange was one she savored with secret sweetness. She had apologized, in the end. But the message was clear. The child’s paternity was not to be discussed. Ever. 

It wasn’t his business, or anyone’s. They wouldn’t understand. It was yet another burden she was meant to bear alone. 

Suddenly her dearest friends gave her a much wider berth, as if the presence of the child repulsed them. Or perhaps they regarded her with a new, rightful fear. If she had the capacity to threaten Poe, who else would she come for? She continued to gain weight, and to gain ground in the fight to clean up the last dregs of the Order, but with each passing day she felt the distance between herself and those she trusted most in the galaxy widening. 

At four months she wasn’t yet showing. Maybe. She thought one night, as she peered curiously at her torso in the fresher mirror, that there was a slight curve to her abdomen now. A shadow over her pubis that had not been present weeks before. Almost imperceptible. The doctor had said it would likely be between sixteen and twenty weeks. The same doctor who had suggested termination once. 

Rey had drawn her saber then, too. Unhappy as she was, it was a piece of Ben that was left to gestate inside of her. She couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ simply rid herself of it like one might rid themselves of an unwanted pet. 

Half growling, she dug her fingertips painfully into the rim of the sink, leaning forward to behold her pale, freckled face more closely. She had wiped away a swath of steam from the glass, leaving it beaded with tiny droplets of water. Remnants from her shower. Her eyes were wild, pupils blown and lips perpetually cracked. Her body ached with exhaustion and buzzed with nervous energy in a confused dichotomy that left her reeling. 

_Too late to be rid of it now._ The voice said. And it _was_ a voice other than her own. The only one that had come to her aid despite all of her pleading and emotional genuflecting at the feet of the fallen Jedi. _You should have listened_. 

She didn’t deign to reply. She never did. To speak to it would validate it, make it more real than it already was; whispering into her ear. Making the hairs at her nape stand on end. 

Rey pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed at her tired eyes, letting out a long beleaguered sigh. Between her hips a little light glowed. Behind the black expanse of her pupils, darkness brewed. Nothing made sense. The whole world felt like nothing more than a dream, a nightmare. 

She tugged a shift over her head, the wetness of her hair bleeding through the thin fabric. Dreams. Ben hadn’t come to her since their night together, the night she had conceived. Now she was left with only nightmares and bitter memories to dwell on in the depths of slumber. 

She tried to avoid it as much as possible. The black void that awaited her in the dead of night. The aching loneliness and creeping anxieties which dug their claws ever deeper into her mind. But one could only keep themselves awake for so long before they began to suffer for it, and Rey was pregnant. 

Reluctantly she hit the lights and crawled between the sheets of her cramped bunk, shivering as the cold, cycled air of her quarters met the wetness which lingered on her skin and drenched her hair. 

Thirty-six hours since she had last slept. And that was only an hour of patchy dozing on a transport bringing her home from her last mission. Her whole body throbbed. Bruises healing awkward and slow; black to blue, purple to yellow, lingering too long under her skin. Sleep overtook her like a stifling blanket of opaque black, sucking the air from her lungs as she drowned in it. Groping blindly, but finding no purchase to pull herself from its terrifying depths. 

Eventually Rey stopped struggling and gave in, what little remained of her consciousness fading entirely. Giving way to viscous, syrupy sleep. 

For a while she drifted, and Rey almost knew peace. The little light beneath her heart fluttered steady like the beat of a drum, its soothing rhythm filling up the void, blocking out all the whispers from the dark. She felt safe. Protected. Bathed in the faintest warm glow. 

Then the blackness began to give way. A scene taking shape around her. Her bare feet finding footing on ethereal ground. The setting was familiar. Ajan Kloss, the home of the Resistance for the last year of the war. Dense, verdant jungles set upon the heights and troughs of ancient geological rifts. 

She had called to the Jedi in this place and received no answer. She had landed here. Stunned in the cockpit of Luke’s x-wing. Filthy, her features smeared with blood. Half of her soul rendered from her in a single, cruel stroke of fate. 

Rey hated this place, even more than she hated everything else. All around her she could see the ghosts of the Resistance. Celebrating and welcoming her back into their ranks with open arms. It had felt like a mockery. She would not have been there without Ben’s sacrifice. Her lips had still burned from his kiss. But they would never know. To them he would always be Kylo Ren. A monster. Her life restored was not penance enough to atone. 

Here, in this dream state, the roaring crowds were transparent, their shouts of jubilance distant and echoing. When Rey reached out to touch the vest of a pilot she found her fingers passed straight through him. 

“Why here?” Rey asked aloud, her own voice sounding far away to her ears. She expected no answer. These hellish nightmares rarely made sense. 

In her middle the light still thrummed, offering a strange sort of comfort. Rey ignored it in favor of exploring her surroundings. 

Beyond all the excitement and jubilation of the phantom Resistance a single, inconspicuous tent had caught her attention. Made from grey canvas, entirely indistinguishable from the ones that had really housed them during that year. This one set itself apart as the only corporeal object in the whole of the dream. Rey could see how the wind stirred at its sides, shadows switching at the movement. It was solid, whole and calling to her in the strangest of ways. 

_Go_. 

Compelled, Rey crossed the short distance to it. The ground under her feet shortening confusingly within the dream, bringing her closer quicker than her feet could plausibly carry her. Dizzily, she stumbled through the flap and found herself surrounded by what had been her approximate living situation for a year. 

It was dim and humid inside, but cooler out of the blazing sun. There was a low writing desk in one corner, adjacent to a trunk in which she had kept her few belongings. Resting atop the trunk was a durasteel water canister equipped with a tiny purifying unit. It _whirred_ softly in the eerie quiet. Then her eyes moved to the cot, and she went still, eyes going wide, blood like ice in her veins. 

Sitting there, on the edge of the cot with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled before the oblong jut of his nose, was Ben. He smirked at her, the scar that bisected his face twisting strangely. His hair was slightly curled with the dampness of the air. 

“Rey.” He was smiling now, but his dark eyes flashed with a seductive sort of danger. _Fuck_ he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Wasn’t this familiar? He looked… damp. Healthy. Whole. All of his wounds from Exegol vanished. 

Rey swallowed hard, heart thundering in her chest. She felt dizzy and warm and terrified all at once. After so many months of silence, here he was. And he looked positively ravishing. Not the response she had expected to have in the case of such a reunion. But in dreams she had no control over her reaction. 

He was handsome. Alive and well and she thought she might melt under the smolder of his slate gaze. None of the boyish insecurity she had sensed before lingered. No longer did he appear confused or afraid. She wanted to demand an explanation, but she couldn’t form the words. The dream wouldn’t permit her to ask.

“I’ve missed you.” Ben cooed, voice low and rumbling. He beckoned to her with a crooked finger. 

A familiar warmth bloomed between Rey’s thighs, and she took a shaking step closer. The shadows of the tent cast over his long face, giving his features an almost sinister, predatory quality. It only excited her more. 

“We’ll be together soon.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his, pulling her to him. His face was pressed between her breasts and he whispered fiercely into her sternum. “Soon, soon, soon.” 

Unable to resist him, Rey tangled her fingers into the silky dark locks of his hair. Her voice quavered as she finally found words, “Promise?”

What happened next was entirely beyond her control; action compelled by the laws of the dream, not by her own wants. That her own secret desires happened to align was entirely happenstance. Rey had no more control over this than she did solar winds or the paths of deep space asteroids. 

Beneath her heart the little light fluttered. She ignored it in favor of Ben. She would always choose Ben. She would do anything for another moment with him, and here he was. 

“Yes. I promise.” He tilted his head back and kissed her hard on the mouth. It was hot and wet and he held nothing of himself back as his fingers dug into her hips. Rey gasped into his lips, never having known this side of Ben before, and appreciating him with a tiny, gasping moan. 

They moved against each other with salacious reverence. Rey straddled his lap and hissed as he nipped her lower lip. Her hands wandered over the breadth of his shoulders and down the panels of his chest and abdomen. Ben cupped her tender breasts roughly and huffed when she squeaked, breaking away to nip at the column of her throat. 

“We’ll be together.” He promised again, hands trailing to her hips and grinding her down roughly onto his erection. He bucked up against her and she keened, ducking her head to hide how her cheeks reddened. When did he get so good at this? 

“Please.” She begged softly, fingers fumbling at the fly of his trousers. She could see the outline of him; thick and long and everything she wanted in that moment. A billion questions she could have asked him, but the dream demanded she only hunger for his body, the sweet stretch of him inside of her once more. 

Ben chuckled, low and dark, fingers playing along the hem of her shift, “You first.” 

With no further warning, he tugged it over her head, baring her body to him save for the plain white of her underwear. He tore those away too, filling the small tent with a sharp _rip_. 

Rey didn’t complain. She had plenty more where those came from, and it was only a dream as far as she knew. She simply batted lashes at him in entreaty and let him take control, flipping her over onto the cot, looming over her on muscular forearms. It felt good to cede control to him like this. Rey was so tired of fighting. Ben could take it all away. 

“Together.” He breathed again, leaning forward to brush his lips over her shoulder. 

Rey nodded fiercely. Of course she agreed, but also she was desperate for him to take her already. No risks this time. Just Rey and Ben. A man and a woman sheltered by the fail-proof profilactic of a dream state. 

Kneeling over her, he explored her body for a moment, black eyes roving. He traced rough fingers along her collarbones and cup the tender softness of her breasts. He trailed his touch down her abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Of the little light, which fluttered with something akin to panic, he said nothing, though he could undoubtedly sense its presence in the Force. 

Rey ignored it as well, instead choosing to trace careful, reverent fingers over the line of his scar. She remembered Starkiller Base, her awakening in the Force. How she had felled the heir to the Skywalker line with unpracticed swings. She missed that moment, every moment they had ever shared. She would give anything to have him back… and here he was. 

His fingers met with the wetness of her cunt, parting her folds and teasing along her slit. Rey sucked in a sharp breath and shut her eyes, fingers curling into the rough blanket beneath her. 

“You’re ready for me already,” Ben teased, drawing his hand away. He undid his fly, cock bouncing heavy and free as he adjusted his trousers. “You’ve missed me?” 

"Every day." Rey gasped, voice hoarse with want.

“Good girl.” He teased, breath tickling her ear as he aligned the head of his dick with her entrance. She could hear the pleased smile in his voice, it made her impossibly wetter. 

“I’ve missed you, too.” They were chest to chest. Ben’s body so convincingly warm over her own she wondered if this were truly a dream at all. He dragged his cock along the seam of her cunt, gathering some of the excessive wet on his weeping head. Pulling back slightly, he met her gaze, dark eyes flashing. Ben licked his full lips hungrily and Rey traced her fingers along his scar one final time before he pressed in. 

And in. 

_And in_. 

Her fingers dug hard into the pale skin of his shoulders as she was reminded of the size of him; girth and length and how he filled her up all the way and then some. Rey saw stars behind her eyes as he delivered the first few tentative thrusts, and she didn’t bother to try and limit the volume of her pleas and encouragements. 

The pace Ben set was fast and furious. He never pulled out very far but each returning thrust of hips was delivered with something akin to brutality. Rey could only claw at the switching muscles of his back and sides and desperately attempt to meet his movements. Her voice came wordless, ragged and hoarse, spilling past her lips. Her wanton noises filled up the whole of the tent. The ghosts outside could undoubtedly hear. But it didn’t matter. It was only a dream. 

Above her, Ben was silent save for labored breathing. His brow was creased in blended concentrationa and pleasure, sweat dripping from his hairline. His lips rolled back and she could see how his teeth were bared. Like a hunter, a predator staring down his helpless prey. 

Rey keened, her cunt spasming around him, and he huffed, ducking his head slightly as her nails raked over his back. 

She was close already, teetering on the edge of bliss. 

“_Ben_.” She pleaded, canting her hips up into his thrusts and savoring the heady, wet slap of his flesh into her own. 

Rey didn’t want to come. When she came this would end and she would be all alone once more. Condemned to a life of solitude with the evidence of what could have been lingering in her womb. At the same time she was on fire, body burning up as Ben slammed into her over and over, cock grazing something inside that drove her to the edge of madness. She tightened up around him, body taut but still achingly wet and willing. Her ankles locked around the small of his back and she threw her head, opening up the column of her throat for his lips and teeth and tongue. 

Groaning loudly into her skin, Ben thrust a hand between their bodies, two rough padded fingers homing in on her clit and quickly taking up a steady circling rhythm over it. 

“Soon.” He moaned into her throat. “So, so, soon. _Rey_.”

It sounded like a threat veiled as a promise; his voice taking on a low, rumbling timbre in the midst of their sex and arousal. He kept whispering those words as he fucked her higher and higher. _Soon. Together. So soon. Rey._

They made her shake with wonder, and pleasure, and fickle, fleeting hope. Her cunt tightened up like a vice, fire shooting through her veins, heat radiating from her core as she came and yowled his name with wild abandon. 

Over top of her Ben gave a few more jerking thrusts before he went still, snorting through a hasty orgasm, tongue lapping the sweat from her skin until he went limp and collapsed on top of her. 

Rey whined under him, limp and weak limbed from her climax. He was big and hot and heavy, even in this dream world. She could feel his spend dripping viscous and warm onto her thigh, leaking out from where his softening member was still stuffed inside of her. It sent a tingle through her center, and a base part of her wanted to bend down and see what sort of mess he had left her with. 

Her rational mind finally took control once more, repressing the hungry thoughts and overflowing with a million questions for Ben. But once more they all stuck on her tongue, unable to be spoken in this place. Rey was not a lucid dreamer, she had no control and thus was left at the mercy of this version of Ben. 

She shut her eyes and breathed deep, appreciating the feel of his body heavy over her own. Even if his weight made it somewhat difficult to breathe, she knew not when she would next see him; or if he would ever appear again. 

As if he could read her thoughts, Ben whispered softly into her ear, a large hand stroking soothingly down her side, lingering over her hip, “Sooner than you think, Rey. I promise we’ll be together… You just have to do what I say, okay?” 

Finally, in all the chaos this dream was, Rey was given a moment to pause and think. Here she wasn’t compelled or limited like she had found herself before. In this decision her will was entirely her own. It was a strange request from a dream. _Do what I say._ It felt like a command veiled as a question. 

More than anything she wanted her Ben back. She wanted the father of this… _thing_ growing inside of her to return and wrap her up in his arms and make the brokenness she was nursing within herself vanish. She wanted him to make them a family. She wanted to fall asleep beside him each night and wake up to his awkward, handsome face each morning. And here he was, promising to come back, promising he could give her all of those things and more. 

All she had to do was obey… 

As if to weigh in with its own opinion, the little light fluttered and flashed disorientingly, and the dream began to melt and shatter just as quickly as it had taken shape. The dimly lit insides of the tent on Ajan Kloss cracking and melting and giving way to black once more. 

On top of her Ben shifted, leaning backwards so she could see his strained expression. He looked confused, then irate, frustration overtaking his features as he watched the dream fall apart. 

The light continued to thrum and flutter and flash. Rey’s hands moved to cup her abdomen, her mouth forming words of scolding, but once more she could not speak them. Ben looked down to her, still making no acknowledgement of the thing which was tearing this all apart. His dark eyes were wide and waiting, as if anticipating Rey’s answer still. 

She never gave one, as she was torn gracelessly from the failing dream by three sharp raps on the door of her real world quarters. 

“Rey?” It was Kaydel, her voice muffled through the steel. 

Rey glanced at her chrono. It wasn’t time for her alarm yet, but close. Her hair had dried in the night, leaving only the faintest of wet patches on her pillow. 

“What is it? My briefing isn't for another hour.” Rey called back, tossing her legs over the side of the bunk and stretching. She had received the dossier the night before. A simple mission. Order sympathizers running supplies through the underbelly of their own beloved Chandrila, right under the nose of the Republic. Like rats dancing beneath the cage of a sleeping lothcat. Perhaps it wasn’t sleeping, perhaps its claws simply couldn’t reach from within the limiting bars of its cage. 

Rey had claws, too. 

It would be an easy mission. One woman, if she could talk her commanding officer down from sending a squadron. It hardly warranted an early wake up call. 

“Poe wants to see you in his office,” Kaydel replied, her voice even and cold. She had grown more distant than all the others since Rey’s outburst towards Poe. That on top of her growing Senatorial duties kept the two apart more often than not. “Fifteen minutes. No more.” 

Rey’s lip curled slightly at the command, she wanted to snipe back that she’d take as much time as she damn well pleased, but she could sense that the other woman was already gone; standard issue boots clicking down the sterile white marble of the corridor outside. 

Rey snorted her dissatisfaction and rose to her feet. She was steady and strong now. Eating adequate protein daily, training her body to keep it toned and powerful. She tugged on her robes and sunk her feet into the soft leather of her boots. She ran a brush through her hair and brushed her teeth harshly. 

When she was done grooming she clipped her saber to her belt and draped a black, hooded cloak over her shoulders. 

The dream was already fading from her mind as she strode through the door which shut behind her with a hydraulic _hiss_. She typed her code into the keypad and the reaffirming sound of a lock clicking echoed down the empty hallway. 

Huffing she began the short walk to his office, wondering what General Poe Dameron could possibly want with her at six-hundred hours. The Sun hadn’t even begun to show its face over the rolling horizon. Through the windows the city was still pale with the dull purple light of budding dawn. 

The double doors were propped open when she arrived, and she found the office was empty save for the General himself. Normally he had a guard or two with him. Or in the case of one of Rey’s interventions, one of their friends. But this morning he was entirely alone, not even BB-8 accompanied him. 

The doors slid shut behind her, and Rey was filled with a sudden sense of foreboding. Her fingerings itched reflexively for her lightsaber. 

“I’d ask you to take a seat,” Poe began, a handsome smile splitting his exhaustion lined face. “But I can tell you’re on edge already, so I won’t.”

“Smart.” Rey retorted, glancing around confusedly. Poe kept his office sparse save for a few medals on the wall and a painting of an x-wing mounted above his desk. The man himself was stood facing a window, eyes glittering in the first light of dawn. 

“You’ve been more obstinant than usual lately, so I’m going to go ahead and cut to the chase.” The smile was gone, behind it was revealed the stern face of an austere general, hardened by the war he had won, “I trust you won’t try to kill me again? Every decision I make is made with your best interest in mind, Rey.” 

Rey sniffed, stiffening. She really wished he would let that go, “It was pregnancy hormones.” She argued, weakly. 

Poe’s eyes narrowed, “You’re still pregnant.” 

“Funny how that works.” 

Poe rolled his eyes and strode from where he had stood by the window to slump into his chair. Feeling more comfortable, Rey followed suit. Sitting across his desk from him. 

“This _does_ have to do with the pregnancy, Rey.” 

“Of course it does,” She deadpanned. “When doesn’t it?” 

“No more missions. None. You’re done, at least until you give birth. Maybe longer,” Rey’s posture tightened defensively in the chair, but Poe continued, “Rose told me about what happened on Geonosis. And I’ve been getting similar reports of increased… _aggression_ in the field ever since. You’re losing it Rey. This pregnancy combined with the missions is doing weird shit to you. Not to mention I don’t need you or the baby coming to harm on my chrono.” 

Rey scowled at him, internally wincing at the use of the word _baby_. It still felt too unreal for that sort of solidifying language. 

“You need me.” She stated, cockily. “I’m the best weapon in the New Republic’s arsenal, General Dameron. If you hold me back you’ll lose a lot of good soldiers in my stead.” 

“It’s that or have us accused of war crimes because of your banthashit.” Poe replied, flatly. “I’ll find stuff for you to do around here, Rey. If the medbay clears you I’ll let you loose on the fleet; you can play mechanic as much as you want. I’ll even start having them keep the training rooms open at all hours so you can go whenever you like. Just no more of this dangerous, stupid Jedi shit, alright? At least not until the kid is born and you can think more clearly.” 

Enraged, Rey could feel redness creeping up her neck, “But—

Poe cut her off with a raised hand. “No buts. You’re grounded, Skywalker.” 

At the mention of her chosen name her vision flashed red, and in the back of her mind, into her ear, this voice whispered; _It doesn’t have to be this way._

And it was right. General Poe Dameron was just a man. A man with a mind that was malleable and could be molded with the ease of smelt. A man with a mind that could be changed, whether he was aware of it or not. Really, she was doing him a favor. Her involvement with the Republic purge of the Order had saved countless lives already, and would save countless more. If he couldn’t see that they needed her, she would _make_ him see.

“No.” She laced the word with all the deception and persuasion she could muster. It worked. Poe’s entire demeanor changed from stern but loving to bleary eyed and confused as he awaited her instruction. 

“General Poe Dameron you will continue to allow me to participate in missions.” 

“I will continue to allow you to participate in missions,” He stumbled to repeat her words. 

“You understand that my presence on the battlefield is that of an asset, that I save lives with this lightsaber.” She unclipped it from her belt, displaying the heft of the dual hilt by spinning into the air then catching it with a heavy _smack_ in her half wrapped palm. 

“I understand your presence on the battlefield is that of an asset, that you save lives.” He mimed, watching the weapon in her palm with nonplussed wonder. 

“You will explain that to anyone who questions your change of heart.” Rey thought of Kaydel and Rose, Finn and Jannah. They all must have been meeting behind her back to come to such drastic decisions as this. Well, now Poe was on her side. Score one for Rey. 

“I will explain that to anyone who questions my change of heart.” 

Rey smiled, “Thank you, General Dameron. I think that concludes our meeting?” 

Poe blinked confusedly, the trance broken. He glanced around the room, rubbing his head. “I… yes. You’re dismissed, Rey. I’m sorry I woke you so early… What were we even talking about?” 

“Today’s mission.” Rey lied smoothly, rising to her feet. She clipped her saber back onto her belt and he eyed it warily. Damn, she should have taken care of that memory while she was at it, but the opportunity was gone. “I don’t know why you woke me up so early either, it’s going to be an easy day. I’ll flush them out like the rats they are, no need to waste extra men on them.” 

Poe nodded in agreement, but his gaze was far away. His words came soft and uncertain. “Yeah… yeah that’s why we keep you around, miss Jedi. Go grab another hour or two of sleep, you’re going to need it.” 

Rey smiled over her shoulder as she left him to work through what had just unfolded. Her instructions were kneaded neatly into his subconscious, and it seemed they were already working splendidly. 

Yawning into her hand, she decided she would indeed return to her quarters and rest a while longer. She remembered her dream and shivered. 

It had just been a dream. That Ben hadn’t appeared before her in the flesh, nor had the two of them wandered and talked for hours about everything and nothing. It was only a dream, on rails with a beginning and middle and end; a subconscious manifestation of her most secret desires. 

Just a dream. 

She felt warmth between her legs and began to walk faster. Maybe she would be able to conjure it up again. It didn’t hurt to dream. 

In her middle the little light fluttered, and Rey remembered what dream Ben had said. A command veiled unconvincingly as a question; _You just have to do what I say, okay?_

Just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been rough for me, but this has helped to bring me some sense of solace in my more unhinged moments. I hope everyone enjoyed this update. Please let me know if you did. I could use the kind words tonight. <3
> 
> (was also just informed that TRoS released digitally and that everyone is a touch miffed, I hope this fix it can be a healing balm to your souls my lovely reylos <3)


	11. six months (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Exegol again, unbidden and unwelcome on the center stage of her mind. Rey ground her teeth, jaw flexing almost painfully. She could smell the ash and sweat and blood. She could taste the salt of Ben’s kiss. Though before her was a scene of quiet surrender and defeat she saw with equality corporeality the tears brimming in Ben’s eyes, the smile that had pulled too beautifully at his full mouth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Longer explanation in the end notes, but, in short; I found a med combination that seems to be working and I'm staying far away from fandom spaces outside of Ao3. Enjoy!
> 
> I hope the vibe is consistent. 
> 
> (I decided to split this chapter in half, expect another update in the next few days)

Eight weeks passed and Rey was beginning to show. Not so much that she couldn’t hide it behind gauzier robes, but enough to perturb her. Naked, dripping with water from her shower, she swiped the steam away from the mirror. Over the sink she observed herself and the strange aberration in her profile. 

The little light fluttered as she passed a hand over the strange slope of her stomach. Her amber eyes narrowed, and she caught the gaze of her reflection. There was an obvious disconnect between her expression and the joyous thing that was taking form within her. Well, it was meant to be joyous. The Jedi felt nothing besides mild irritability at the physical inconvenience. Eventually she really _would_ be too large to go on missions. Poe would be giddy, if he could remember how to be. 

Sighing, she turned away from the mirror and began to dress herself. She donned her dark robes, tied back her hair, then slipped out into the cool air of her quarters. A small duffle bag sat packed at the foot of her bunk. Enough clothing for four days, two to reach the mission location in the outer rim, then two back to Chandrila. 

It was a high stakes mission, the most intense to date. An entire rogue star destroyer ripe for the pillaging. Filled to the brim with First Order sympathizers. Rey was giddy at the thought, embracing her desire for carnage more readily than she ever had before. 

_Revenge._ She reminded herself, _For Ben._ Every Order holdout she slaughtered brought her an ounce more peace when she slept at night. Each killing blow would flood her chest with a sense of vengeance, pride, and relief. She had failed Ben on Exegol, but she would not fail him here in this endeavour. Rey would personally see the face of the First Order wiped clean from the galaxy, one body at a time. 

Her objective was to find and _subdue_ the commanding officer so he could be brought in for questioning. She would do it, but Poe hadn’t forbade her fun along the way. 

Smirking, she shouldered her duffle. Preparing to make her leave. 

Then she felt it. Light at first, like a butterfly’s wings. So delicate and fleeting she nearly missed it. Rey stood frozen, waiting in icy silence. For a moment she held her breath, nearly convinced that it was her imagination before it happened again. This time it was more enthused, and within her the little light fluttered in accompaniment. 

_I’m here!_ It seemed to say.

Rey’s hands fisted at her sides, conflicting emotions welling and warring within her chest. The doctor had told her it would happen eventually, that the baby would move and she would feel it. Now she stood confused, heart aching at the sensation, at the tactile proof of the tiny thing growing inside of her. It was real, this child that she and the ghost of Ben had made together was _real_. A wave of grief struck her and she nearly buckled to the floor. 

Ben was gone. She and the baby were alone.

She remembered Exegol, Ben broken and bloodied in her arms. Then she remembered their night together, the ghost that had appeared before her, that had entered her. Rey remembered him fading. Both times, vanishing cruelly from her embrace. 

Her throat seized and a small sound passed her lips, strained and high. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Another nudge from her baby and she was helpless but to ghost a hand over her abdomen. She sensed the light there, the hope, the radiance. 

All attributes Ben had displayed in his final heroic hours. 

_Enough!_

Rey jolted, then swallowed back her tears. Frigid resolve flowed like ice through her veins. Suddenly the tears welling in her eyes seemed exceptionally superfluous, she wiped them away hastily and eyed her damp fingers with disgust. 

Pausing for another breath, she waited. 

When the kick didn’t come again Rey swallowed hard and set her jaw resolute. As she stepped over the threshold into the hallway she resolved to proceed unphased. That star destroyer, the _Inquisitor_ Poe had called it, was as good as hers. 

Rey could not bend the past, but she could alter the present exquisitely.

⁎

_2 days later_

The _Inquisitor_ loomed before them like a great, derelict reaper from the blackest abyss. Marred by the scars of war, vast portions of the ship’s starboard side were damaged beyond repair. It had been bombed heavily by the Resistance and their allies over Exegol. Poe said that the dissidents occupying it had reinforced existing walls and barriers to create a seal against the icy depths of space.

Rey eyed the damaged portions, their charred blackness standing out starkly against the backdrop of the newly reinforced walls. Fist clenching and unclenching at her sides, she imagined peeling it open like a tin can. The vacuum of the void would do a fine job of cleaning up. 

“Amazing how tenacious they are,” Rose commented from behind her. 

Both women loitered in the threshold of the cockpit, obviously making the pilots anxious as they prepared to gun their way in. 

The mechanic had taken up a more prominent combat role as of late. Rey humored her, “Yes, they are. But we’re here to stop them.” 

Rose smiled then, pleased with the answer. She clapped Rey on the shoulder and nodded back towards the ship’s small galley. “Come on.” 

Rey followed her out of the cockpit through the flickering lights of the galley and into a cramped armory. A dozen other soldiers were preparing themselves, dropping armor over their shoulders and examining their blasters for fault. 

“Brace for turbulence.” A voice rang out overhead, “We’re going in!”

Rey gripped one of the handles attached to the ceiling. If they were already making a run at the docking bay it meant there was no aerial resistance, they had no TIEs, only a half immolated destroyer and a platoon of ground troops. Cornered like rats. It would be an easy job. 

The transport began to jerk and shake as it met a volley of resistance from the anti-craft canons. Rose, adjacent to Rey, glanced worriedly at the Jedi’s abdomen. Rey had hidden the bump well in the waves and folds of her grey robes, but Rose was unphased by the attempt at disguise. 

“It’s fine.” Rey reassured. Part of her wanted to drop a hand to her belly, only for a moment, just to quell any fear the little one might have had. It was a stupid impulse, pointlessly maternal. She only gripped the cool steel of the handle harder. 

There was a shock wave, and a booming explosion from beyond the vibrating walls of the ship. A nervous flutter emanated from Rey’s middle. She ignored it in favor of unclipping in saber from her belt. 

“Ready?” Rose asked as the troops made their final preparations. 

They replied in a cacophony, of _Yes ma’am_ and _Yes commander_.

The ship jolted and bounced, and Rey could hear the sound of blaster fire resonating just beyond the armory’s outward door. She wet her lips and let her saber tear to life in her palm. It sucked all the sound and anticipation from the room, and for a moment all the men only saw her; the last Jedi brandishing her golden blade. Awestruck.

Then the door slid up, revealing the harsh white lighting of a half ruined docking bay, peppered with shrapnel and debris from their violent entry. 

Behind her eyes flashed a memory of a similar bay, of a narrow escape pod, Ben’s smile and the flirtations that passed between them. In the same moment she flashed back, refusing to allow the memory to phase her. Instead she drew strength from it, fire, rage. 

Troopers and officers alike were falling on the ship, blasters firing bloody red. Rey wasted not a moment, leaping into the action and spinning through the air with lithe grace. She swept through the first line of the enemy, blade searing through armor and flesh and bone, clearing a path for her allies to advance. 

They were meant to buy her time while she cut through to Captain Dimitri, but the chaos of the battle enveloped her, drawing her in. Easy kills kept her from her duty, clouding her mind. Her fiery blade cut so easily through the stormtroopers’ plate, even more so through the fabric uniforms of the few remaining officers. She could see it in their eyes as they died, they feared her. 

“Rey!” Rose called out as she bashed a helmetless trooper across the face with the blaster. He crumpled to the floor and she fired mechanically into the notches of his spine. Her eyes were frantic and she gestured wildly, “Go!”

Shaken from her blood haze, Rey darted away from the combat, delivering a blow to the gut of a stormtrooper as she passed him by. There was a wide hallway that connected to the bay, it was sterile white and empty as Rey pursued it. The air became colder, cycled and recycled over and over, it tasted stale on her tongue. 

The hall led her to a lift guarded by two unarmored men. She could sense their fear, see it in the way their blasters tremored in their hands. They wore navy jumpsuits stitched with names in shaky Aurebesh. Yrsa and Thresh. Mechanics saddled with unwanted weapons by a desperate, dying order. Still Order insurgents nonetheless. Party to the deaths of countless people, Rey thought, accessories in the murder of Ben Solo. 

Rey’s vision flashed crimson and she slipped into an offensive stance. They were untrained, this would be easy.

“Stop!” Yrsa demanded from the right, his voice trembled. He pointed his blaster at her but his finger wasn’t on the trigger. A slight dip into his mind and she knew he was afraid to kill. 

Rey scowled, she didn’t have time for this nonsense. “Why?”

She swung her saber in an arc of orange light. Both men staggered backwards, shaking with fear. Their lips were parted, passing tremulous breath, but they spoke no words. Their wide eyes reflected the path of the blade, terrified. 

“I don’t stop for anyone.” 

She struck out at Thresh first, ducking under the single slipshod shot he got off before one of the beams met with the soft flesh of his belly. He grunted and collapsed with a huff as Rey spun to meet the better aim of Yrsa, who’s blaster bolt ghosted her arm with the faintest heat. 

“Please!” He shouted, eyes pleading, but she was already on him. Her saber cut cleanly through his sternum, emerging spitting on the other side. 

Rey didn’t wait around for them to die. She could hear a commotion in the long hallway behind her as Order soldiers caught onto the plan. They would try and stop her, but she wouldn’t let them. 

Once she was safely sealed in the lift she pressed the button for central command. Surely that would be where the captain was hiding. She buzzed with anticipation and adrenaline, tingling with the joy of the fray, the hunt, the kill. 

For a moment she closed her eyes, centering herself. She could sense Rose and a small group of Republic fighters descending behind her. The fight must have been even easier than Poe anticipated, Rey begrudged him for not sending her alone. 

The doors slid open in a rush of a cool air, a soft _ding_ heralding her arrival at the bridge. A single man donning black officer’s garb stood at the helm, flanked by four dirty faced troopers. He faced the sweeping windows that gave view of the ruined destroyer, hands fisted behind his back. 

“Captain Dimitri?” Rey asked, slinking forward with easy confidence. Behind her the lift _whooshed_ away quietly, leaving room for Rose to arrive. The troopers didn’t even raise their blasters, they only watched her with tired, wary eyes from their commander’s side. 

“That is I,” his reply was hoarse. “I suppose this means it’s all over now?” 

He turned to face her. The man was surprisingly young, though his face was scarred, and he wore a patch over his right eye. 

“I suppose it does.” Rey relaxed a little, sensing his willingness to comply. Her lightsaber still hummed reliably in her hand, casting the right half of her body in an eerie citrine glow, “Will you come easily, or are you going to complicate things?” 

Hey blinked at her with one pale blue eye, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his thin mouth, “We gave it all we had. We fought the good fight.” 

Rey frowned at his lamenting, sensing a monologue brewing. She had neither that patience nor the willpower to endure him waxing poetic. He was a war criminal after all. Her fingers twitched around the hilt of her saber, both beams thrummed soothingly, calming her. 

“You’re not going to kill me?” The captain asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Not immediately, no.” Rey deadpanned. Feeling disinterested in the entire situation. Rose would be up soon, she knew. She only had to babysit the Captain and his guards until then. 

Either not sensing or choosing to ignore her obvious disdain, the captain continued to probe, “You carry a lightsaber, are you a Jedi?” 

Rey watched him with warning behind her honey eyes. She said nothing, allowing him to infer. 

“Ah. You are. The last, I assume?” He smiled nostalgically, gazing distantly past Rey. “We never were quite able to snuff you out, no matter how much time and resources we put into the venture… both Supreme Leaders were unwilling to let the matter go.” 

_Both_. Ben had held that title once, Supreme Leader, before he allowed himself to be Ben again. Rey’s heart seized at the thought of him. Her body felt too hot, and suddenly her skin felt tight to her bones. Captain Dimitri and his four paltry guards were of The First Order. Abruptly, Rey saw not a group of defeated men and women, but a copse of murderers wasting precious air; dawdling uselessly in their final, pathetic moments. 

Beginning to quiver, she held firm. An inkling of her duty still echoed from the back of her mind. Even as the voices whispered to her in seductive entreaty; _Are they not killers? Did they not take him away? Remember._

Exegol again, unbidden and unwelcome on the center stage of her mind. Rey ground her teeth, jaw flexing almost painfully. She could smell the ash and sweat and blood. She could taste the salt of Ben’s kiss. Though before her was a scene of quiet surrender and defeat she saw with equal corporeality the tears brimming in Ben’s eyes, the smile that had pulled so beautifully at his full mouth. 

The last Jedi let out an inaudible gasp, the pain of the memory was unreal. Still, her feet remained firmly planted, she resisted the deep and frightening urge to slaughter the sorry lot of them. _Murderers. All of them, murderers._

Captain Dimitri’s single eye narrowed at her, reading the tension of her body. He seemed to interpret it as a challenge to his previous statement, to the effectiveness of his beloved Order, “Of course, we did manage to drive to extinction the most powerful Jedi line to ever exist. The name Skywalker, forever snuffed out… save for a sole pretender.”

His pale face became lined with shadow as he leered at her mockingly. 

The Skywalker name grated on Rey’s ears, and the knowledge that he knew of her lie sent Rey hurtling over the edge. With the tension of a bowstring, she snapped. Her awareness spiked, and she was keenly tuned into the rapid beating of their hearts as she descended brutally upon Dimitri’s guard. 

They hadn’t the time to blink, nor breathe, let alone ready their weapons as Rey fell on them. They were faceless to her, nameless as she twirled the dual beams of her lightsaber, beheading one while rendering open the guts of another, charred viscera spilling from her armor. 

The scent of seared flesh made Rey’s skin prickle and buzz as she ducked down and brought her weapon up and through the ribcage of another trooper. He sputtered, blood dribbling past his lips as she let the blade carve a neat path up and out of his body, exiting at the shoulder. 

The last of the guards was cowering as the captain watched on emotionlessly. Remembering who the true enemy was, she simply kicked the trooper hard in the chest, sending him sprawling as she braced the movement with the Force. 

Vicious, Rey turned on the captain with bared teeth. 

“You don’t know who I am.” She hissed, fist tightening on her hilt. The beams seemed to spit and hiss more enthusiastically, thickening with her anger. 

“I know enough,” Dimitri replied. His expression was stoic and solemn. “There were always whispers among the ranks… I know you wear a stolen name. A lie. It’s a sad thing that the galaxy will never—

Rey swept forward and slammed her boot into his ankles, knocking him to the floor. She grimaced down at him as he scrambled, fear finally souring his visage as she loomed over him. He looked so small cowering in her shadow, helpless and pathetic. A once renowned captain now entirely at her mercy. She did not deign him worthy of the end of her saber. 

“I…” She whispered with shaky breath. She planted her foot on his chest, letting the tread of her boot slowly slip towards his throat. “...am going to kill you.” 

“_Please_,” he mouthed, hands gripping feebly at her ankle. 

“Ben never got a second chance… and mine is a lie.” Her eyes narrowed, and she made her choice. Without another word she centered her heel over his throat then bore down ferociously. There was a wet _pop_, and a series of desperate gurgles as the captain pawed weakly at the tattered remnants of his neck. Air whistled through the wound disgustingly, not nearly enough reaching his lungs as his chest heaved. 

_Palpatine. Palpatine. Palpatine._ The name echoed through her skull as she backed away from the body. She left a single bloody print with her right boot. Somewhere behind her, Rose spoke. The sound was distant, as if through water. 

“Rey?”

Rey swallowed hard, and looked to her friend. There must have been something in her eyes that was jarring, because Rose recoiled from her. 

“What did you do?” The mechanic sputtered in disbelief. Several more Republic soldiers filed into the room from the lift, their eyes widening at the horrific scene in front of them. 

Feeling numb, Rey replied coldly, “What I needed to do, Rose.” 

Rose approached slowly, then took one of Rey’s wrapped hands in her own. There was blood speckled across the backs of Rey’s fingers. Taking the Jedi’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, Rose angled her chin down to peer into her wild eyes. 

Her lips parted, then tightened up into a thin line, “Okay. We need to get you home.”

Rey watched dully as they made a quick sweep of the bridge, taking the single surviving trooper into custody. The man didn’t fight, still trembling with fear, he ducked his head as he was led past Rey. When they found nothing else of interest Rose corralled her back towards the lift. 

“Come on,” She sounded defeated. “Mission complete. Let’s go home.” 

Rey, filled with an odd sense of peace, wondered if she would dream of Ben as they voyaged home. 

The little light was silent and still. Rey knew it was afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. I said I wasn't coming back. But here I am. 
> 
> Essentially, in conjunction with my existing mental illness (I'm bipolar), fandom and social media kind of drove me off the deep end. I hated myself and my writing. I felt like shit. Since I deleted all of my social media I have suffered a severe anxious episode and some tweaking of my medications that seems to have worked. I feel like writing again, and I really do want to complete this story. So here I am. 
> 
> That being said, I would appreciate it if readers would continue to share this work on social media? I literally can't, but I do want people to actually read this. I put a lot of love and effort into every update, and will continue to do that even moreso now that I have healthy distance between myself and the fandom. I just really want people to give me a chance, I feel like I'm worth it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with me. I 100% intend to finish this fic.
> 
> -Annie


	12. six months (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey dreams and Ben meets his baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway done! Thanks for the warm welcome back on the last update <3 I hope this fic continues to please.

Rey wondered passively what Rose had seen in her face on the Inquisitor. The mechanic was an expert at masking her emotions, but Rey had the Force and had sensed the woman’s perturbation. 

She stood in the center of her quarters, skin prickling in the cool air as she lingered beneath the vent. They had locked her inside her rooms once they reached Chandrila. No longer did her friends fear _for_ her, they simply feared _her_. 

Her eyes wandered the room, lingering over the Jedi texts where they were stacked neatly on her desk. They sat ancient, still, and silent, tauntingly so. A reminder of her own failures. 

Rey sighed and looked away from them, down to her hands. There was blood dried beneath her fingernails and her whole body felt as if it were coated in a thin layer of grime. There had been no shower on the transport ship, so she was filthy. 

Once she was locked safely away inside the ‘fresher, she stripped down without sparing the mirror a glance. She was still too sedate to brood over her belly. Her limbs felt loose and limber, her mind was blissfully at ease. She basked in the rare mental quiet, standing in the scalding spray. All the tension fled her body in the wet and steam. 

Rey lingered beneath the spray for a long while, eyes closed and swaying slightly. It might have only been minutes, but it could have been hours. She couldn’t say, and she hardly cared. After everything that had transpired she basked in the strange sense of peace. 

With gentle, massaging hands she worked sweet smelling soap into a lather over the planes and panels of her body. The water that trickled past was tinted with filth. Her hands stilled momentarily of the swell of her middle, involuntarily stalled so she was forced to consider her condition for a moment. It unnerved her, the pregnancy. It would have been more practical to terminate while she’d had the chance. It might have saved her great pain in the end. But nothing was more agonizing than the thought of parting with even a fraction of a sliver of Ben, and her fetus was half him. Apparition or no, it had been the essence of her bondmate that had manifested to her that night. 

Behind her eyes the voices she had thought temporarily sated hissed their dissatisfaction. Rey ground her teeth and ignored them, continuing her shower with rushed, stiff movements. She lathered her hair and then tugged a comb roughly through it, tearing out several days and a battle’s worth of knots and snarls. 

The peace was shattered. She was frustrated. 

When she was through, she jerked the glass door of the shower back and half staggered out onto the bathmat. She wrung out her hair with her hands, hissing as it pulled in her rough grip, splattering water on the smooth floor. 

Exhaustion had begun to seep its way into her bones, her muscles twinged wearily and her eyelids weighed themselves half shut. Gingerly, she covered herself in a set of loose, dark clothing, perfect for sleeping. The pants stuck to her legs in the damp. 

It was time to rest now, her body and mind were in agreement. Though she dared not hope she would dream. 

Stepping out of the ‘fresher in a cloud of steam, the cool air of her room raised bumps over her skin. Rey placed her lightsaber on her desk next to the texts, skimming her fingertips along their covers and spines, she found they were dusty. 

How long had it been? Months? And in all that time… _silence_. 

She turned away from them, feeling oddly spurned. Often she told herself that she had accepted this strange, lonely fate, that she was resigned to it. But truthfully she wasn’t, she never would be. It pained her how they had come to her in that penultimate moment, they had bequeathed unto her all of their power and glory, and then she died, and they snatched it all away. And then they took Ben, too. Leaving her woefully alone and the Force hopelessly unbalanced. 

_It should have been Ben_, she thought as she turned out her light. 

Sliding between her sheets, Rey shut her eyes and remembered the icy voice of Captain Dimitri. A single word ricocheting destructively in her mind; _pretender_. It pulsed and thrummed over her neurons like a taunting mantra. The voice did not speak up to contradict it, the light did not flutter and flash to keep it at bay. 

Sleep came for her in wispy black tendrils. Taking hold of each, weary limb and forcing her still. Finally, vision darkening, Rey went slack in her bunk and gave in to slumber. 

When her eyes opened again, it was in response to the soft _wooshing_ of water lapping at a shore. A noise she was still mostly unfamiliar with, save for a few fateful, watery run-ins. 

She blinked against the bright sun, and felt blades of grace bending under her palms. The air smelled sweet and floral. Slowly, she sat up, taking in her surroundings confusedly. She was in a field of bright yellow wildflowers, interspersed with bursts of white and lulls of grassy green. Some hundred feet to her right was the shore of a deep blue lake, gentle waves shimmering in the sunlight. 

“What is this place?” She questioned aloud. Normally her dreams retraced her steps over the last two years, carrying her from Jakku to Takodana, Takodana to D’Qar and so on. But this location was entirely unknown to her. 

Rey brushed her fingertips over the tiny blossoms, they came away yellow with pollen. All around her insects worked busily, buzzing from one bloom to the next. 

“Naboo.” A familiar, deep voice answered from behind her. 

Rey leapt to her feet, spinning around defensively. When she reached for her saber it was absent from her side, but the surprise and fight quickly fled her body. She stood up straight, hands slack at her sides as she blinked at Ben. 

He looked… better. The bruises that mottled his exposed flesh were yellowing, and his cuts had scabbed over. His scar was gone. Lips parted, Rey stared at him dumbly. Her heart pounded in her chest, but the words stuck on her tongue. Where had he been?

“You’re shaking.” He cocked his head and took a step closer. The little blossoms brushed their pollen onto the dark fabric of his pants. He paused, drinking her in for a moment, locking the pair in a stalemate of disbelieving stares. 

“How…” tremulous, Rey felt lightheaded. Where was he when she needed him? Why had he left her alone all over again? How could he leave her with—

“_Rey_.” Ben staggered forward, buckling to his knees at her feet. His full mouth was open, dark eyes shimmering and wet. Trembling, his hands rose to hover over the obvious swell of her stomach. He looked between her and the bump, reverent and tender. 

“You didn’t know?” She remembered her dream of Ajan Kloss, his broad hands on her body, how the light had torn the dream to bitter shreds. 

Ben shook his dark head, “_No_. Can I…?”

He looked up to her longingly, desperate to touch but caring enough to beg her consent. Rey nodded, and he laid his hands gently over her clothed belly, tears glistened in his eyes and his breath rushed harshly past his lips. 

At his touch the dream should have fractured and fallen apart, that was the precedent that had been set for these strange, ethereal realms. The salacious Ben of Ajan Kloss was safe, but this Ben was more delicate. Touch, and reminders that he was a dead man, those were the things that were meant to end these encounters. 

But the dream did not end at his touch. Instead it was enveloped in blinding light as the fetus reacted to the presence of its father. White and blinding, Rey buckled to her knees as well at the radiant warmth which enveloped her. It was soft, gentle and full of love. For a moment all of her anger and resentment towards the world was stifled, and she was left with only tender feelings and subtle yearnings. 

She reached for Ben through her blindness, cupping his face, tracing along his nose, feeling the softness of his broken, bruised skin. She tingled where they touched. As the light began to fade and the thrum of the world with it, Rey realized they were both gasping for air. Tears streaked their cheeks as they sat stunned in the flowers. 

“Do you remember?” She sniffed, thumb brushing along his lower lip. The split in it was healing over now, “Do you remember when you came to me?” 

Ben nodded fiercely, hand shifting from her belly to grip her hips, “_Yes_.” 

“Why did you leave?” More tears spilled over at the painful memory, Ben fading from her grasp when they had only just been reunited. “Where did you go?”

“I don’t know,” his shoulders shook with a sob. “I swear I didn’t know about the baby. I swear.” 

At his words she fell forward, fingers curling into his bloody shirt as she sobbed into his shoulder. He hadn’t known. He couldn’t have, because he was dead, and this was only a dream. The cruelest kind, the sort that made hope flutter feebly in her chest. The hope that she might have a family, that she might know love and wholeness and happiness. 

He was warm and solid under her hands, his thick arms curled protectively around her. For a moment Rey allowed herself to pretend. 

“We made a baby,” her shoulders heaved and she buried her face deeper into him. Under the lingering scent of battle he smelled of earth and leather and man. “Our baby.”

Ben let out a breathy laugh, thick with his tears. His arms curved more tightly around her waist, and she felt his lips press to her hair. Gingerly, he plucked her hand from his shirt and lowered it to her stomach, pressing his own over hers. 

“Can you feel it?” He asked, lips ghosting her forehead. 

Rey swallowed thickly and nuzzled into his shoulder. She didn’t want the dream to end, but already she could feel its vibrance fading. She angled her head to brush her lips along the crook of his neck, her breath tickling his skin, “Feel what?”

Ben exhaled, long and content. Then he tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to her own, smiling all the while, “_It’s a girl_.” 

Rey gasped, tensing in his arms, and then the dream fractured in two, rendering her from him. She came awake, gasping for air, clutching at her sheets. A thin sheen of sweat had gathered over her body, soaking into the linens. Beneath her breast the baby stirred. A girl. A girl, a girl, a girl.

Frantically, she rubbed her eyes, the heels of her hands coming away wet. A girl. A baby girl. 

_No tears_, voices hissed in warning, and her thundering heart hardened. _This means nothing. It is nothing._

Feeling ill, Rey rushed to the ‘fresher where she knelt in front of the toilet, fighting back dry heaves. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten. 

Nothing. It meant nothing. It was a stupid girlish dream playing out her most secret desires. Desires that clearly needed to be culled if they could impose on her so vividly. 

Once her stomach settled she rose shakily to her feet and splashed her face with cool water. Her skin was flush and tacky with sweat and tears. Staring into the mirror, she brushed her lips with her fingertips. His kiss still burned there, and her body where his arms had wound around her. The baby jumped and twisted excitedly at the memory, like it had under its father’s touch. 

Rey’s expression soured, and she hissed down at herself, “Stop.” 

There was a jolt in the Force, and then the fetus fell still, as if it were afraid. 

Rey scowled and glimpsed herself in the mirror as she moved to pass through the door. She stalled for a second and looked back, having sworn she saw a flash of citrine glowing bright in her eyes. A familiar amber gaze leered back at her, and she shrugged, slipping back into her quarters. 

Her chest ached and her mind stung. She hated those dreams, how they teased her with what might have been. They no longer felt like a brief reprieve from the world, but a continuation of her daily torture. There was no more escape for her. 

Numbness taking hold, she slipped back between her sheets and shut her eyes. Eventually, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

∗

In the morning she dressed quickly and breakfast was delivered to her on a stainless steel tray. It was plain, oats and bread with butter. She ate it not because she was hungry, but because she suspected she would need the strength in the coming days.

Surely the whole of the Republic army was tittering about her outburst by now. It made her uneasy, and she knew that soon enough Poe would bring down the hammer on her little adventures. Mind tricks could only carry her so far. 

As if on cue, Kaydel arrived, hair done up in her usual Leia-esque fashion. Her face was hard, her eyes stern as she and a small retinue of soldiers escorted the Jedi from her quarters. In the hallway they frisked her, checking her for any hidden weapons. 

“Really?” Rey gawked at her friend. 

Kaydel scowled, “You’ve had outbursts recently, and you aren’t going to like what we have to say.”

The walk to Poe’s office was stiff and silent. When Rey dipped momentarily into junior senator’s mind, she found disappointment and distrust that might have once stung. Now she took it in stride. They might not have understood her ways, but Rey knew she would be absolved of all blame in the end. 

Inside Poe’s office the entire gang was waiting. Poe sat behind his desk, hands tucked behind his head as he reclined. A single, empty chair sat opposite him, and behind that stood everyone; Rose, Jannah, Finn, Lando, Chewbacca, and Kaydel who moved to join them. Their expressions ranged from cold, to hurt, to deeply worried. 

Rey scowled at them and strutted over to the chair, where she promptly sat. The leather squeaked in complaint as she shifted her weight, making herself comfortable. 

“Rey.” Poe began. 

“General Dameron,” Rey replied coolly. She rested her arm on the chair, and her chin on her fist. 

Poe frowned and cut straight to his point, not bothering to soften any of his blows, “Something has changed in you, Rey. I don’t know if it's the pregnancy hormones or what, but you’re going down a dark path.” 

“Haven’t we already had this conversation?” She waved her hand dismissively. 

The pilot shook his head, “I know you mind tricked me, Rey. Finn helped me figure it out.”

Rey glanced back over her shoulder, she found Finn staring resolutely at the far wall. 

“It’s too much! You’re starting to jeopardize the safety of Republic soldiers and allies,” He produced something small and dark from one of the desk drawers. When he dropped it in front of her, Rey saw that it was an eyepatch, a familiar one. Rose must have taken it from Dimitri’s body. 

“_This_ is too much. We needed him, he had vital information about Order activity in the mid and outer rims, and you killed him. Against orders you killed him. And that wouldn’t have even happened if you hadn’t _mind tricked_ me out of grounding you!” He stood up, slapping his hands harshly down onto his desk. He leaned forward, eyes fiery. 

“Well guess what, Rey? It backfired. You’re grounded. At _least_ until you give birth, we’ll evaluate your condition again after that.”

Rey sighed defeatedly and glanced around the room. There was no way out of this, no way she could mind trick all of them. 

“Fine.” She gritted. 

“Rey,” Rose spoke up from behind her. Her words were lilting and kind. “This is happening because we all care about you. Because we care about your baby and we want you both to be happy and healthy.”

Rey’s fingers dug harshly into the arms of the chair. What did they know of her? How could they judge her when they didn’t live her pain?

“You,” She exhaled, “None of you have any idea…”

Rose laid a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away, sliding to her feet. 

“I know we don’t, Rey. But we care nonetheless.”

“So that’s it?” Rey turned to face her once friends. “You brought me here to tighten the chains, safety in numbers?” 

“That’s right,” Kaydel spoke up. “This will be good for you, Rey.” 

“I’ve informed the guard rotations that you aren’t allowed out of your quarters past midnight. And you aren’t permitted in the docking bay, either.” Poe explained, dark eyes narrow, almost accusatory. Like she had already tried to steal a ship. 

“Fine.” Rey snapped again, gaze roaming the room, already looking for a way out, “Is that all, General?”

“Yes it is.” He spun back to his desk, shuffling through a stack of papers. 

Kaydel approached her again as everyone began to file out. But Finn stepped between them before either could speak. 

“I’ll take her,” Finn said, gently taking Rey’s bicep in one of his hands. “I need to have a word with her.”

Kaydel looked relieved to be dismissed from her duty, “Alright. See you guys later.” 

Finn waved off the guards who had initially accompanied her as well, and soon enough it was just the two of them wandering the halls of Republic HQ. 

“What do you have to say?” Rey sniped, keeping her pace brisk. 

“Don’t be angry with me for doing the right thing, Rey. Poe told me he was missing time, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, they were nearly to her quarters and she wouldn’t have to suffer him much longer. 

“Wait, that’s not what I wanted to talk about,” He was obviously flustered. 

“Whatever it is, spit it out. I don’t have the patience for this today.”

Rey knew she was being cruel, and she could see the hurt in Finn’s eyes, but she was done playing pretend. She wasn’t okay. She never had been. 

“The baby…” He began carefully, dark eyes dropping to her belly. Rey braced herself for an intrusive, unanswerable question. “I— I don’t know how to ask this. It sounds insane, but I can sense how powerful it is, you know?” 

Rey narrowed her eyes and nodded, crossing her arms. They had come to a stop in front of her quarters. The hall was empty save for them and the ringing hum of the lights overhead. 

“Well… I’m just going to say it. Kylo Ren is the father, isn’t he?” 

A jolt of anxiety spread like ice through her veins. How could he possibly know? 

_He can’t know. No one can._

Inwardly distraught, but outwardly collected, Rey deadpanned, “Ben’s dead, Finn. How could he be the father?” 

Finn shrugged, “I mean they never found a body. And you’ve been so torn up ever since I just assumed something had happened between the two of you. You’ve been straying so much.” 

“He’s dead.” She repeated, a lump forming in her throat. He had died in her arms, she’d felt him draw his last breath then watched him fade into nothing. Ben Solo was gone. The baby was an act of the Force, nothing more, nothing less. 

Finn hummed, pensive for a moment, then he included an addendum to his theory, “You aren’t hiding him somewhere to avoid consequences? He isn’t tainting you with his darkside crap?” 

Incensed, Rey took a threatening step forward. Her face was hot, her eyes wide and wild. Spitting, she snarled at him, “How _dare_ you. If you think for a moment that I would be here rather than with him, you’re insane. And he never _tainted_ me, that man had more light in his little finger than either of us has in our entire fucking bodies, Finn.” 

Her finger was pressed against his sternum, eyes blazing up at him, “He’s. Dead. Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m pregnant and tired of having my grief stoked.”

The words hurt, and they echoed in her mind as she left Finn gaping in the hall. 

_He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead._

Alone in the safety of her quarters she dropped to her knees and let all of her anger come roaring out in a shriek. She beat her fists against the floor until they felt tender and bruised. 

Ben Solo was dead.

The dreams were beautiful lies meant to taunt her. 

Sobbing softly, she cupped her belly. Beneath her palm the baby kicked. 

Nothing made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be frustrated by my inability to keep a Twitter and how that effects my ability to self promote. I feel like this fic is solid but I have no way to share it. But I did make a Tumblr, and though I won't be super active on it, I will be sharing fic updates there and possibly doing a few prompts in the future.  
Also miss talking to my fandom friends so hmu <3
> 
> [Link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/sordidbones)
> 
> Also maybe we could hit 800 kudos this chap? That would be a nice surprise.


	13. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Next time we meet, Rey, I will tell you where you can find me,” His eyes flashed yellow, and he chuckled low and foreboding in his chest. Then the dream died, all at once. Like a clap of thunder it boomed in her head, and then it was gone, leaving the last Jedi reeling and sweating in a tangle of sheets. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

For days Rey paced. Back and forth, the length of her room and then back again. Barefoot, feet slapping on the cold floor. Technically she was not confined to her quarters, but with the volley of restrictions Poe had saddled her with she might as well have been. 

She only ventured out to meet with doctors who all assured her that the pregnancy was progressing normally. They never touched her, regarding her with a sort of fearful hesitance that made her eyes roll. There was a part of her that was pleased she struck such fear into people's hearts, but mostly it was an inconvenience. 

She had her meals brought to her, and spent most of her days languishing in her bunk and perusing the holonet. At night she would go through her forms. Poe had given her run of the training rooms, but she knew he would have people watching her there. Every step she took beyond the threshold of her rooms was closely observed and recorded. More than once she had found herself being followed, and upon dipping into her pursuers minds she discovered their intentions easily. 

Poe was terrified of her. 

_Good. He should be._

One night, after picking through her supper and running through her forms— the actions were rote after weeks of confinement— Rey showered and then crawled between her sheets, body bare. 

Each passing night seemed to grow more unbearably hot, to the point that she no longer bothered with clothes. She tossed and turned for some time, eyelids heavy but body displeased no matter how she positioned herself. All of her discomfort was centered around her ballooning stomach. There was nothing she could do but sweat, grit her teeth, and bear it. 

Eventually, when sleep did claim her, it was patchy and interspersed with moments of wakefulness where she kicked at the covers, rolled, and groaned her discomfort to the impersonal effects of her quarters. The short lulls of slumber were dark and dreamless, her mind set adrift on an endless sea of black. 

Then came a night where it wasn’t so. Instead a vibrant picture was painted behind her resting eyes, and she found herself winding through the narrow hallways of the Falcon. 

Her footsteps echoed on the grating, and the overhead lights flickered. There was a soft hum that permeated the space, indicating the craft was in active flight, barreling through hyperspace. 

Rey let her fingers trail along the walls, and she found them firm and solid under her touch. It was so real that she questioned whether it were a dream or if she had finally awakened from her living nightmare. Her belly was still round and cumbersome, but that hardly mattered as she approached the cockpit. 

A shadow of a dark head poked up and over the back of the pilot’s seat. Rey held her breath as she inched closer, hoping, knowing who must have been waiting for her at the helm. Ben. It had to be. Who else would come and whisk her away from the endless boredom and captivity of Chandrila. The baby kicked under her breast, and Rey smiled faintly in reply. 

_Yes_, she thought in hopeful answer. _Yes, we’ll be a family._

Her hand touched the aged leather of the chair. Somewhere behind her she heard the echoing laughter of a child, like a phantom of promise. She could picture it; life on the move, just her, and Ben, and their baby girl. Warmth welled in Rey’s chest, fickle hope peaking in tears at the corners of her eyes. This was it, the penultimate moment. 

Her hand tightened on the chair and she gave it one hard push, spinning it to face her. Her expectant smile soured into a grimace as she observed what waited for her. Despite all the promise the dream had held, the chair was empty. She pressed her palm to the seat and found it cold, like no one had ever been there. 

Buckling forward onto her knees, she let out a pained noise as her eyes roamed the familiar cockpit. Han’s dice still hung over the flickering control panel. Beyond the windscreen space flickered by in a barrage of blue. 

Her mouth felt dry and her hands began to shake. The child’s laughter had faded, and she was left in terrible consuming silence. 

“Why?” She asked softly, gazing up at some unknown entity. “Why are you doing this to me?” 

So many brushes with hope, each one turning to ash between her grasping fingers. The little light twisted and turned within her, and Rey bowed her head, resting her hands on her stomach. 

“I don’t understand,” She choked. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. I can’t do it.”

“Rey,” A voice, low and soothing from behind her. Rey whipped her head around to find Ben looming in the entranceway, he wore the same black sleeved tunic he had on Crait. The scar that bisected his handsome face looked inflamed and irritated. When he smiled down at her crookedly, it twisted up. 

“Ben,” She clambered to her feet. A difficult thing to do at her stage of pregnancy. 

He held her gaze firmly, eyes never straying to her belly. It was inconsistent with her last dream of him, how he had cradled her and cried with her, how the baby had fluttered and started and bursted with light. She didn’t care. How could she when she could run her hands down the bulk of his chest, feeling it rise with life and breath?

Her eyes shone and she stood up on her toes, body already alight with need for him. He drew her in by her hips and kissed her with hunger, tongue pressing skillfully past the seam of her lips. 

He wasted no time in orienting her towards the co-pilot’s chair, where he broke their kiss to sit and motioned to her with a wave of his gloved hand. 

“Strip,” He demanded, firm but soft. His dark gaze wandered eagerly over the curves of her. 

Rey obeyed, not bothering with demureness. She peeled away the layers of her gauzy robes and tunic, her breast band and her underwear, leaving her bare under his eyes. He appraised her for a long moment, drinking her in. The hungry shadows that crossed his face made her shiver. 

“Ben…” She pleaded, feeling too hot. She was aching with need and he had hardly touched her. 

He beckoned her forward with a crooked finger, “You’re so beautiful. Come here.” 

Rey sauntered into his lap, knees bracketing one of his thighs as she wound her arms around his neck. She curled her fingers into his dark tresses and kissed him again. It was less gentle this time, their teeth scraping as Rey chased down her own need for him. She ground her aching cunt against his thigh, dampening the leg of his trousers, whining into his mouth. 

_Easy_, he spoke smugly into her mind. One of his gloved hands dropped down to squeeze her ass. He gave the cheek a smack before he dipped further between her legs, leather teasing over her damp flesh. _Force, you’re so wet for me._

Rey gasped and broke away from him, curving her hips into his hand. The tip of a finger dug perfectly into her clit, drawing a moan past her lips. 

Ben hummed, removing his hand and bringing it up to his mouth where he peeled off the glove with his teeth. He did the same with the other, then cupped her swollen breasts, eyes flashing dangerously. 

“Do you want me to fuck you, Rey?” He pressed her hips down and rutted his own upward. She could feel the prominent bulge of him through his trousers, and she nodded fiercely. 

“Then say it, Rey.” He breathed, cupping her neck and bringing her lips achingly near to his own. “Tell me what you want. Say you want my cock.” 

Who was this Ben who whispered such brazen things to her? Rey’s skin tingled and she flushed at his filthy words, but she acquiesced, bending to his will as she burned with need, “I want you,” her voice quavered, and she touched the side of his face lovingly. Her thumb brushed along the scar she had given him, a small sense of possessiveness sparked in her gut when she touched it. “I want your cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me.” 

A grin split his face ear to ear, and he reached between their bodies, undoing the fastenings on his pants without looking. Rey watched as he fished out his thick cock. The head was already beaded with translucent precome, a vein pulsed along the underside of it as it curved up and into his palm. She licked her lips impatiently as he teased himself, giving a few languid strokes that drew the soft skin up and around the fat head, then back down again. 

Rey wriggled her hips and swatted lightly at his chest, “Stop teasing.”

Ben snorted, dropping his hand to the base and angling himself upward, “Come on, then. You know what to do.” 

Intent on savoring the sweet stretch of his cock in her cunt, Rey slowly lower herself over the head. Gingerly, she allowed him to part her folds. For a moment she remained like that hovering and switching her hips as she coated him in her essence. 

Ben’s pale face flushed and his lips parted to draw in harsh breaths. Impatiently, he slapped a broad hand roughly across her ass. _Now_, he commanded into her mind, and Rey tasted just an ounce of his unbridled desire. She arched her back and he positively _ached_ for her. 

Rey panted and shut her eyes, angling her hips down and allowing him to penetrate her fully. The slide was easy and wet and she whimpered as he filled her up to the brim. Her cunt spasmed sweetly, and she began to carefully work her hips over him.

“_Big_,” she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder, kissing the fabric of his jacket. 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, hands on her waist, guiding her up and down on his cock. Small, wet sounds began to fill up the cockpit as he began to fuck her in earnest, disposing with any shred of tenderness that might have remained. 

“Good girl, Rey.” He praised and she sighed, rolling her hips enthusiastically. He stretched her wide and full and the steady ingress and egress of his cock left her panting at the friction. “Such a good girl for me.” 

He slapped her ass again, the sharp smack sending a jolt of pleasure right to her tight center, “Doing what I say, just like I asked.”

Rey nodded enthusiastically, throwing her head back as his pubic bone brushed tantalizingly against her clit. Yes, yes. She would do anything he asked. Anything to keep this congress from ending. She never wanted him to stop touching her, never wanted to forget the beautiful agony of being impaled on him. 

“You’re getting my clothes wet,” he teased, looking between their bodies. Some of her wetness was soaking into his pants and the hem of his tunic. Smiling, his eyes flashed citrine as he sat up more fully in the chair. He grasped her hips roughly and pulled her more fully against him. 

Their lips met in a brutal kiss as their hips began to lose any semblance of rhythm. Ben held her hips tightly in place as he pounded up and into her, the flesh smacking wetly as he worked her towards climax. 

“Are you close?” He panted breathlessly when they parted. He need not wait for an answer, her impending orgasm was written plainly across her face. 

She tilted her head back and gasped with each sharp punch of his hips. Her skin blazed where he touched, and the frenzied press of his cock into her cunt had her muscles tensing in anticipation. 

He brushed his lips along the flushed skin of her throat, a fine sheen of sweat working up over her entire, naked body. Her breasts bounced with each push and she teetered on the edge, mind a jumbled mess of unspoken entreaties; _yes, more please, so good, please, please, please, I love you._

Ben grunted, burying his face in her neck he gave three more brutal thrusts. Each one made her teeth clack and her eyes roll as he pounded into something deep and primal within her. On the third Rey’s whole body went stiff, fingers curling into his shoulders as she gasped and sputtered, rolling her cunt desperately against him. White flashed behind her eyes and her whole body burned and quivered as she came. 

Under her, Ben mouthed at her skin as he followed suit. He grunted low and masculine as wet warmth spread between her thighs, and she could feel his thick cock twitching with each spurt. 

“Fuck,” She gasped, fingers pulling weakly at his hair. She rutted against him, rolling with soft whimpers through the aftershocks. 

A growl rumbled through his broad chest and he kissed along her collarbone in silent agreement. 

_So good for me_, he praised. _Perfect. Obedient._

Rey fell still in his lap, panting. She rested her head on his chest and shut her eyes, savoring the warmth of the afterglow. The baby turned and twisted uneasily, but she had learned how to ignore it after so many weeks. 

Strong, wide hands smoothed up the bare expanse of her back, pushing her into his chest. He was humming softly, rumbling with some soft tune she did not know. 

“What’s that?” She asked. 

Ben only chuckled, and Rey was distracted by the sensation of cum dripping out of her and onto his leg. 

She was content. Clinging to the dream with everything that she had. But in truth it was beyond her control, and slowly it began to fold in on itself. Sounds began to echo and resonate, colors began to twist and blur and blot as the dream began to cave. 

“No.” Rey said, sitting up in Ben’s lap. Beneath her his scar began to twist and slither like a serpent across his face. 

His grin shifted from satisfied to knowing, and he gripped her hips with bruising force as he leaned forward. Through sheer power of will he seemed to be keeping the twisting fibers of the dream at bay. With deceptive gentleness, he pressed his forehead to Rey’s. 

She breathed in the taste of him, committing his earthy scent to memory. He was real, he had to be. 

“Next time we meet, Rey, I will tell you where you can find me,” His eyes flashed yellow, and he chuckled low and foreboding in his chest. Then the dream died, all at once. Like a clap of thunder it boomed in her head, and then it was gone, leaving the last Jedi reeling and sweating in a tangle of sheets. 

Ben’s words echoed in her head, and hope bloomed in her chest. 

Ben Solo was alive, and soon enough she would know where to find him. Perhaps the Force was good. Perhaps there was some goodness left in the galaxy. 

The Last Jedi hoped.

*

_It is time that you remembered_, a voice boomed through the blackness, startling Ben from his unwilling slumber. Shame, guilt, regret.

Ben struggled, swiping his hands against empty air for some sort of purchase. Rey. He remembered Rey. And though he did not know the circumstances of their meeting, he knew that she needed him. He remembered making love. He remembered her lithe body under his hands and her breath on his lips. He remembered that he loved her, and his chest ached with their separation. 

“Rey. Please. Show me Rey,” He begged, swimming through the emptiness. 

The voice said nothing, and the darkness began to spin and blur into a barrage of dark colors. Blacks and greys and crimson red, they pooled into an image, and Ben found himself seated once more in the mind of Kylo Ren. He could feel it like barbed wire wound around his limbs, pain and suffering and self hatred like none he had ever known. 

Kylo Ren was a walking wound. A scab waiting to be picked, begging to bleed and fester and radiate more pain. Around his face a mask restricted his vision and breathing, a miniature prison to hold him captive. 

The dark knight was walking with purpose across a long, grated bridge. Beneath him spanned an abyss that appeared bottomless, lined with pipes and machinery beyond view. At the furthest point of its fathomless depths there was a glimmer of pale light, a winking promise of the world beyond. Above him a shaft of light shone in from a maintenance tunnel, illuminating the trial ahead. 

_Starkiller_, Ben remembered. If he had a body of his own he would have shivered at the word. 

At the center of the narrow bridge stood a man. He was old, with silvery hair and lined skin. His gaze was stern, but sad. The color of his eyes obscured in the darkness and dim red of the artificial cavern. As Kylo drew closer, the man began to stride forward. There was anger in his step, and desperation. 

Emotion spiked in Kylo Ren’s chest, acrid and angry. He reached out to feel the man’s intentions and found his heart was filled with secret longing. 

“Take off that mask,” He paused, lingering with a wide berth between them. “You don’t need it.” 

Upon closer inspection, Ben recognized the aged face of Han Solo. The same man who had held him on Chandrila, who had offered him a bouquet of wildflowers. His father. Kylo Ren’s father come in a desperate bid to return him to the light. 

For the first time is truly struck Ben that he _was_ Kylo Ren. Galactic scourge, creature dark and terrible. 

Cooly, Kylo replied through the modifier in his mask, “What do you think you’ll see if I do?” 

It was a smug question, goading. But Kylo was brimming with barely restrained rage, his heart thundering into his throat. Ben sensed where this memory would lead, already he could sense the death knells echoing through the Force; a soft tribute to what was to come. 

He was helpless to stop it, a mere passenger behind the scornful eyes of Kylo Ren. 

“The face of my son.” Han said, resolute. There was hope in his eyes, joy in his heart that his wayward boy would even speak to him. 

It was then that Ben noticed the two figures looming over them on a balcony; wringed by artificial light. Though Kylo had yet to spot them, he recognized Rey. Her face was a mask of confusion, wide eyed as she watched the scene below unfold. The man beside her was unfamiliar, he peered on in equal concern. 

With a swift, sure movement, Kylo triggered the clasping mechanisms at the back of his helmet and removed it from his head. The air was cool on his face, and smelled vaguely of industry. He watched his father from across the bridge, waiting. 

Han drew in a sharp breath, expression pensive but hopeful as he beheld his son’s face for the first time in years. Behind him a wookie emerged from the shadows, looking on with equal intensity. 

“Your son is gone.” Kylo declared, though Ben could feel the confliction building within him. Naked faced before his father, he felt vulnerable. He remembered Chandrila, he remembered what it felt like to be loved unconditionally. But also he remembered what it felt like to be left completely and utterly alone, entirely at the mercy of the voices that plagued his young mind. 

“He was weak and foolish, like his father. So I destroyed him.” His voice did not waver, he truly believed the words he spoke. 

Han drew nearer, gingerly closing this distance between them, “That’s what Snoke wants you to believe, but it’s not true,” then he paused, and his voice strained with emotion. “My son is alive.”

“_No_. The Supreme Leader is wise.”

Han moved forward again, insistent, “Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants he’ll crush you.”

Kylo shifted, frustratingly torn between his father’s words and his staunch loyalty to the man that he believed had saved him. He felt weak, like a child. They came to stand face to face, and Han finished with a gruff; “You know it’s true.”

“It’s too late,” Kylo whispered, eyes wet, filled with forbidden want. 

“No it’s not. Leave here with me, come home.” 

When Kylo only stared at him with a pained expression, Han added, “We miss you.” 

A lump formed in Kylo’s throat, and Ben hurt along with him as he grieved. It pained him but he knew what he had to do, just as surely as the light called to him, he would have to snuff it out. 

“I’m being torn apart,” Kylo rasped vulnerably. “I want to be free of this pain.” 

“I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it,” He looked his father up and down, his decision made. Within the dreamlike chains that confined him, Ben rattled madly. 

_No_, he thought, remembering his father’s warm embrace, remembering the love in his deep brown eyes. _No, no, no, no, no._ There had been mistakes, certainly, but none of them could make him deserving of this. 

But there was nothing he could do, he could only watch on in abject horror as Kylo Ren became an irredeemable monster. 

“Will you help me?” He pleaded. 

“_Yes_,” Han resolved, quick and firm. Gaze half disbelieving as he closed the final few inches between himself and his son. “Anything.”

Kylo dropped his mask with a clatter that echoed through the cavern, both men looked to it for a moment. Then Kylo unclasped his saber from his belt, bringing it between their bodies. His mind was oddly at ease for what he knew he was about to do, the quiet before a harrowing storm. 

Ben braced himself, wishing for a way to shut his eyes. He did not want to see, he did not want to relive such a horrible crime committed by his own hands.

Each of them looked to the saber, then Kylo offered it up between them. Han laid a palm on it, and somewhere in the distance the shaft of light faded forebodingly. 

Han and Kylo were left with only red light to illuminate their expressions. For a moment the son held the father’s gaze, his expression oddly blank. Han’s eyes saddened, as he realized what was happening. But he did not try to flee. 

In a single harsh stroke, Kylo ignited the crimson beam of his lightsaber and thrust it spitting through his father’s chest. Han started and recoiled in shock, skewered. 

The wookie howled and the pair above wailed. Rey’s ragged, “No!” Split through Ben’s being like a knife. There was so much anguish in her voice, so much pain. And Kylo… as the beam shattered and charred flesh and sinew and bone, he was cut in two. 

For a moment Han hung between them, Kylo curved forward, lips trembling as he observed in disbelief.

“Thank you,” he managed, hoarsely. 

Then he retracted his blade, and Han stood for a moment, dying. He held his son’s gaze, and with a loving hand, reached out to caress the side of his face. Kylo remained still under his touch, body shaking slightly. It was over. There was no coming back from this action. Above them Rey sobbed. 

Then Han wobbled, and tilted, and fell into the gaping abyss that surrounded them. Kylo felt his father die as he fell, the brilliant light of Han Solo forever wiped from the fabric of the Force. He blinked, stunned. A wash of confusing emotions overcame him, distracting him from the task at hand. 

_I did it_, Ben heard him think. _It’s done_. He sounded vaguely relieved, but also he wavered into a deep well of secret sadness. 

The wookie, _Chewbacca_, wailed and a bowcaster bolt struck the reeling Ren brutally in the side. Pain stabbed through his body, and he shouted and gasped in response. 

With the bolt of pain the memory shattered, breaking apart into countless tiny pieces, freeing Ben and stranding him in the void once more. His heart pounded and ached, tears streaked over his face. He had killed his own father. Him. Ben Solo. _Kylo Ren_.

He raised his hands, expecting to find them stained red. But they were the same as always, bruises fading, fingers trembling. 

“Why would you show me that?!” He begged, cupping his face and heaving on broken sobs. 

_It is a part of who you are,_ one of the voices replied. _So you must remember._

Remembering the light as it faded from Han Solo’s eyes, Ben shook his head violently, unsatisfied. “Why? Why am I here?! What do you want from me?!”

_We want nothing_, four voices spoke together. _This simply must be._

And then Ben’s thoughts were stifled, and he was cast once more into restless slumber. Forced to await his next memory in silence. But he would not forget Ben Solo, he would not forget the crimes of Kylo Ren. 

How could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly super proud of this chap. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Please let me know if you did, those kind of comments really motivate me.


	14. eight months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took my time writing this one, but I hope its still enjoyable.

The day that Rey Skywalker, Last Jedi and Savior of the Galaxy, stole the _Millennium Falcon_ was otherwise, entirely ordinary. Poe was in his office, issuing asinine commands as Rose worked merrily in the hangar. Kaydel was in combat training with new recruits while Jahnnah prepared for another trip offworld to recruit. Even Lando and Chewie were present, spending most of their time socializing in the HQ bar.

Finn was the one saddled with ‘Rey duty’ for the day, keeping an eye on her whenever she left her quarters. 

Little did he know that she had been working on his mind for weeks. She learned him until she could trace his thought patterns in his sleep. Rey learned how to slip in and out unseen and undetected. And Finn, poor, sweet, loyal Finn was none the wiser. Even after what she had done to Poe, he did not believe she would harm him. She knew this because she already had. 

When they rounded a corner on their way to the mess, and found themselves entirely alone Rey turned to Finn and blindsided him. Her mental onslaught was immediate and brutal, and when she was done he had collapsed onto the floor. 

As soon as he was unconscious, she knew she had little time before someone would round the corner and see what she had done. But Rey was prepared for that, she had a new trick up her sleeve, one that was only mentioned in the Jedi texts, but the whole of it had come to her in the black of night. 

Reaching out to her immediate surroundings, she shut her eyes, feeling. The Force pulsed, brimming with life and teaming with death. Rey touched it, gently, tentative and testing. When she found it amiable to her will, she bent it, curving around it herself, wearing it like a second skin. It warped her vision and suddenly the world sounded a thousand miles away, but she was safe. Hidden. Invisible. One with her surroundings. 

A Force blank. She was unseeable, for she had obscured her very existence in the fabric of the Force. They would see her, but they would not register her existence as she made her flight. 

She brushed past a pair of patrolling soldiers without raising any alarm. Their eyes remained forward, expressions stoic as she bypassed them with all the ease of a phantom. Then, as they rounded the corner and she continued down the corridor, she heard their shouts as they discovered Finn. 

And so the hourglass was turned on its head and her time for action began to drain away like falling sand. Muffling her footsteps through more Force trickery, she made a mad dash for the hangar where she knew her quarry to be. The Falcon was docked; empty and waiting. Soon it would be hers, and she would be free. 

At thirty eight weeks she found herself panting after only a few moments, flushed, pregnant body ill suited to vigorous activity. But she fought through the ache in her back and ankles, powered past the disruption to her center of balance and the shifting pressure on her bladder. 

When she reached the hangar she found its occupants were not yet aware of her escape. The Falcon was perched neatly beside one of the open heavy doors, beyond which lay the landing pad and the seamless blue skies over Hanna City. 

Puffing with as much care as she could muster, she could feel sweat beading at the nape of her neck. The effort of maintaining the cloak was taxing, and as she stumbled past Rose the mechanic’s eyes narrowed and her head jerked around, eyes brushing over Rey as she retreated towards her vehicle of escape. 

The ramp was down, and a few techs puttered around the ship’s prow. An alarm sounded loudly over the base’s com system, followed by Poe’s booming voice. 

“Code green! Escaped prisoner! All guards to your posts, all possible exits sealed!” 

Rey, now openly gasping to draw air into her stinging lungs, clambered up the ramp, dropping the cloak as soon as her palm slapped into the ramp release. With a hiss it rose up behind her, and she wasted no time in rushing to the cockpit. 

Through the blast screen she could see the heavy, durasteel door beginning its lofty descent towards the floor. But it was too little too late, Rey was faster, her hands flying with expert ease over the Millennium Falcon’s controls. A few switches and her hand pressing brutally into the thruster and she was airborne, rocketing with a mechanical roar through the narrowing gap of the hangar door. 

Then she was free, soaring through the open air, climbing towards space as x-wings screeched and scrambled behind her. 

Smiling to herself, she relaxed into the pilot’s chair. Then she set the auto-pilot to anywhere-but-Chandrila. 

Rey Skywalker was gone in a streak of blue light. 

It had only taken her a few minutes to find the on board tracker and destroy it, leaving it a pile of black, metallic scraps on the floor of the cockpit. From there she wandered the ship, a rush of warm memories as space blurred by in a collage of blue. Only they weren’t so warm anymore, each one was cast dark by the shadow of who she was, what she was destined to become. 

Each drink shared in the tiny galley, each game of dejarik played, smiles turning black and twisted. 

Eventually she found herself in the captain’s quarters. A place rarely visited by her. Chewie had taken up occupancy within once Han died and then he had relinquished it to Lando whose aging body couldn’t tolerate the other cramped bunks the ship had to offer. 

The bed was made, a few of Lando’s personal effects littered the bedside table. A paper bound book, a rare sight in modern times. There was a blaster, its silvery barrel polished to a shine. 

Rey ignored all of it in favor of the inviting mattress and deep blue duvet. She was tired to her bones. All at once it struck her. Her ankles throbbed and her back pulsed, her limbs were heavy and cumbersome. She felt ballooned, beached, larger than before. 

Certain that it was safe, that there was no way for them to pursue her, she crawled between the sheets, nestling into the cool pillows. Her eyes slipped shut, and she decided through the gathering fog of slumber that she choosing a destination could wait until morning. 

They were in the throne room when she opened her eyes. It was restored to the state it had been in before Snoke was slain. Red drapery concealed the galaxy beyond the transparisteel bubble. But her surroundings paled in comparison to what awaited her on the throne. It was Ben, entirely naked. One hand drummed boredly at the arm of the chair while the other supported his chin. His gaze was sultry, and he was broad and wide in all the ride places. Powerful muscles bunched and relaxed beneath his pale skin with each breath he drew. 

When Rey’s eyes inevitably fell to his soft penis, he smiled. 

Flushing, Rey gulped and shifted uncomfortably. Normally she was not at all opposed to Ben Solo in the nude, but something felt undeniably wrong about this. It felt like a demand, in a way. But all of her unsettled hesitation vanished with he crooked a beckoning finger towards her. 

“Rey.” He said her name, and his voice was like a balm upon her ears. 

She was so weak in the presence of this man. He possessed her heart and soul, and she could see in the glimmer of his sable eyes that he knew it. His scar bunched as his beautiful smile widened and Rey took a tentative step forward. 

He wanted her, even ballooned up and eight months along he wanted to fuck her. Ben’s eyes never once strayed to her swollen belly, they remained fixed on her face, only ever wandering as low as her swollen, painful breasts. 

Rey watched his cock stir against his thigh. 

His hand dropped into his lap, patting a pale thigh, “Come sit with me.” 

As she stepped forward, unable to resist his call, a smile tugged at the corner of his handsome mouth. The painful scar that bisected his face twisted up with it. Rey swallowed hard and took another tentative step. She was going to sit with him, in his lap, on a throne. His throne. Their throne. 

It was both real and unreal, an alternate reality that played out for her what could have been had she simply taken his hand. Ben and Rey. King and Queen of the whole galaxy. It was a seductive idea, and soon she found herself on her knees at his feet. Her fingertips ran along the skin of his calves, brushing through coarse, dark hairs as they traced inward towards his inner thighs. 

His cock was hard, and she watched half mesmerized as a thick vein pulsed needily along its side. She’d never taken him in her mouth before, and apprehension jolted up her spine, stalling her wandering hands and pursing her lips. His heavy cock gave a twitch and he carded gentle fingers through her hair, drawing her nearer to him. 

“No need to be afraid, Rey. It’s just us now,” his voice was soft and thick with entreaty. He licked his lips then caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Their eyes met, his were dark and fiery. Never before had she sensed danger in him, but now she jerked away. 

Something was wrong, but she did not try to wake. Nor did she try to run. Ben’s gravity was immense and she found that she could not escape his orbit. Her body flamed with want while fear prickled down her spine. 

“I promised you something last time we met, after I finished fucking you,” he traced the curve of her cheekbone. 

Rey remembered and forgot her fear, reaching up and capturing his wrist in her small hand. She pressed his palm to her cheek, her face engulfed by his large hand. 

“Tell me,” She pleaded. She’d kiss him. She’d suck his cock. She would have done anything for even the slightest hint at where to find her bondmate. The gaping hole he had left in her person made itself known once more, emptiness paradoxically filling her up. He was dead, but also he wasn’t. She needed him like she needed air. She was gasping, suffocating, choking on empty space, and Ben Solo was her sweet draw of oxygen. 

His other hand rose up, and he guided her by her face to stand before him. His sable eyes roamed her body, and she realized with a flush that she was naked, too. 

“Once we’re together, Rey, things will never be the same.” Deep voice quavering with emotion, he touched her cheek and then her hair. His eyes were reverent, but behind them loomed something deeper

“I’ll never be alone again,” Rey choked. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes and her throat felt thick. 

Ben’s smile widened, his scar twisting up even further, though the warmth did not touch his eyes. He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his own. Rey pressed forward and into the kiss, deepening it into one of sliding lips and seeking tongues. She was hot all over, cunt aching. Goosebumps prickled over her skin as she slipped needily into his lap. 

When they parted, Rey flushed from her scalp to her toes. Wanton and wanting. Ben’s full mouth ghosted the skin of her forehead, and he breathed into her flesh a promise; “I’m on—

The baby twisted suddenly, rolling her tiny body as white light enveloped the whole scene. It’s thrum swallowed up Ben’s voice before Rey could hear his words, and she was ripped violently back into bitter reality. 

She jolted upright, covered in a sheen of cold sweat and uncomfortably aroused. 

“No,” Rey breathed desperately. “No!” 

Her fingers tangled into her hair and she let out a frustrated sob. He was about to tell her, she was so close to Ben she could taste him on her tongue. So near and then… _and then…_

Amber eyes narrowed, and Rey dug her blunt fingertips harshly into the taut skin of her belly. She could feel the child there, still twisting and turning in her own discomfort. The mother snarled deeply, and the baby fell still, as if in fear, perhaps some sort of demented reverence. 

“_You_,” her voice was tremulous, thick with angry tears. Her hands curled into fists, pressing hard enough against her belly to leave bruises. “I should have ended you when I had the chance. You ruin _everything_.” 

Her insides felt as if they were on fire. Hot, fat tears began to streak over her cheeks, shining with her anger and grief. She wanted to speak more, to belittle the horrid thing taking shape inside of her, but she couldn’t. Her words were swallowed up in a volley of heavy sobs and she crumpled to the floor, pounding her fists against it until they split and bled. 

The bright crimson of her pooling blood was all she could she through her tears. And she wondered with deranged hope if she could die here. It felt like her world was ending, the universe snapping back into itself as all of its internal structures turned to ash. 

So close, yet so far. Rey resented the whole of the galaxy, she resented the icy hand of fate that had walked her to this sheer edge. Beside her gaped an abyss of blackness and death. Of emptiness and pain. But also of sick promise. 

Sobbing raggedly into the floor, cursing her baby, and Luke, and Leia, and everything under the Force. She took the plunge.

*

When next he woke there were no voices, there was no pain but that which lingered in his mind. He could still feel the resistance of his saber cutting through his father’s chest. He could still feel the light waning in Kylo Ren. A lost, broken boy commiting an atrocity from which he certainly would never come back.

He remembered Rey’s cry of anguish. Her bereaved expression morphing into utter rage. 

She would never care for him. There wasn’t a way in the galaxy that she would even understand how he cared for her. 

Even lost to her grief she had been so beautiful. 

Around him the blackness began to fade, overtaken by warm, flickering light. He felt it on his face, past his gloves on his fingertips. Around him the curved stone walls of an ancient round hut began to take shape. Everything was damp, and beyond the walls the sea crashed hard into a rocky shore. The air smelled of salt and wet earth. 

And, sitting across from him, the gentle panels of her face illuminated by the fire which burned between them, sat Rey. She wore a simple tunic, and she was soaked to her bones. Her soft brown eyes were brimming with confusion, and sadness. 

Ben realized slowly that she was looking at him, at Kylo Ren. Who was both present on the water world and also resting in his quarters aboard the Supremacy. 

“I thought I’d find answers here,” Rey admitted, softly. “I was wrong.” 

Kylo sat on edge, leaning forward and considering her with beholding eyes. He saw her beauty, her power, and he felt her pain as if it were his own. Ben was surprised that such a wretched creature could still possess empathy. 

Gaze cast downwards, ashamed, she continued, “I’d never felt so alone.” 

Her words cut through both Ben and Kylo like a knife. Neither of them wanted that for her, neither of them wanted her to know the isolation he had lived for so long. To be alone in the Force was to be alone in all aspects. 

“You’re not alone,” Kylo’s voice quavered the intensity of his assertion.

Wide eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, and her words came without effort or deception, “Neither are you.” 

She meant it. Kylo could feel her sincerity as surely as the warmth of the fire between them. Rey was brimming with compassion, even after the horrible crime Kylo had committed. How long had it been since someone had claimed to care for him? How long since he had felt wanted? 

If Ben could have shivered, he would have. He was braced in Kylo’s shadow for the dark knight to lash out, to do something atrocious and permanent and painful. But he never did. Outside thunder clapped, but they were safe in their radiant little sphere, enveloped in warmth and each other’s disparate auras. 

Rey’s eyes did not waver from Kylo’s scarred face and when she spoke it was with soft sincerity, “It isn’t too late.” 

Kylo said nothing, only watching her pensively. But beneath his barely maintained exterior he was smoldering. He could smell her through their strange connection. Her sweat, her blood, the sea salt in her hair. 

Rey drew in a trembling breath and slowly began to raise her hand. 

His vision wavered in shock as he realized what she wanted. Not only was she offering him _care_, she wanted to touch him. When had he last been touched with any gentleness? Snoke only ever rendered his flesh and sent electricity jolting down his bones. He could not recall the last brush of careful fingers. 

Kylo looked down to his hand as Rey began to reach out, hand tremulous over the flames. Ben held his breath as the dark knight slowly removed his glove and returned the gesture. 

It felt like centuries passed as they extended towards one another. Hands shaking, it felt as if the very Force was hanging on with baited breath, the world seemed to slow, flames flickering with less vigor. Kylo forgot the damp in the air, and the warmth of the flames. He forgot everything but the pair of amber eyes staring back at him, and the small fingertips that were nearly brushing his own. 

Rey looked afraid. Then their fingertips met, and all of her fear vanished in an instant. They both gasped. Breaths coming heavy and ragged, their eyes flamed and smoldered and the Force opened up between them with such kairos that neither of them could manage a word. 

Light, bright and blinding filled up Kylo’s chest. And beyond the reality that held him he saw a vision. Rey and him, clad in greys and beiges. His arms were wound around her waist, his lips brushing her neck as his heart swelled with a love like he had never known. The Force was showing each of them a possible future. Futures they could, would, share. 

Ben heard Kylo’s thoughts, felt them in his own heart, and knew that he interpreted the hopeful image incorrectly. Kylo imagined them sitting upon a throne of ebony, Rey draped across his lap. Citrine eyes glowing. 

Ben looked beyond that and was filled with sudden and intense hope for his own future. If he was reliving his own past, and this picture had not yet come to pass, perhaps it lay ahead of him. Perhaps there was redemption waiting for him, and freedom from this hell.

All at once Ben Solo knew he was irrevocably in love with the young woman sitting across from him. For a long moment they remained still, basking in the beauty of the thing between them. The light that had erupted in Kylo Ren’s chest did not waver, nor did it fade. As long as he gazed at her it held firm, casting out some of the blackness that had so thoroughly overtaken him. 

Then the hut exploded in a cascade of falling stones. Much to Ben’s horror, a figure appeared where the entry to the hut had been just moments before. Shouting and braced for battle, Luke Skywalker stood with a hand extended outward. 

The bond began to sever, breaking apart as Kylo’s vision of a shocked Rey peeled away from his eyes like tiny fibers. And then he was alone in his sterile, cold quarters, staring numbly at his hands. Fear tore through his middle, twisting up his stomach as his fingers balled into fists. 

Both he and Ben could remember uncle Luke. They could remember how little tolerance he had for his struggling nephew. How he had worked so diligently to squander the darkness in the young boy. 

They remembered his saber lighting up a padawan hut in the night, the manic look upon his weathered face. 

They remembered the death they had seen in his eyes. And for Rey they were stricken with mind numbing fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments/kudos are really what inspire fic author's to keep working. They mean a lot. Even just a "<3" is better than nothing at all lol.


	15. Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The tears brimming in her honey eyes were obvious, the way the flickering flames which surrounded them shone off of her irises made Ben’s chest seize up. Again, he was causing her pain. The most beautiful, perfect creature in the galaxy and he was unable to do anything but cause her harm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Promise I'm not abandoning this.
> 
> Also I have never given birth, so the description of childbirth in this chapter is appropriately vague (I hope).

The first contractions began on her third day adrift between the stars. Rey gritted her teeth, breathing through them. The doctor on Chandrila had warned her of false contractions, how they might throw her off. So Rey pretended it wasn’t real. She pretended her body wasn’t slowly building to some horrific crescendo as the pain grew regular and more intense. 

Her water broke just as she was setting the coordinates into the hyperdrive for Takodana. It was wet and her trousers stuck to her thighs with the fluid. As the _Falcon_ jerked and blue streaked over the canopy Rey collapsed into the captain’s chair, squirming in a paltry effort to find a comfortable position. 

She was hours from Takodana, from Maz Kanata who would surely offer her some aid. She did not know what would come in those intervening hours, and she was terrified as her abdomen seized up in more painful contractions. 

Rey shut her eyes, grit her teeth and groaned through each stabbing, rolling sensation. White knuckling the arms of the pilot’s chair she pretended that she was somewhere else, anywhere else. She pictured Jakku with its endless rolling dunes, D’Qar with its dense, verdant jungle and oppressive heat. She imagined the wild, expansive forests of Ajan Kloss, and the smoky, suffocating atmosphere of Exegol. 

In that moment Rey wished she had never left Jakku, that she had never met Finn, Poe, Rose, or even Ben. She wished she’d never gotten pregnant, or that she had terminated when she had the chance. She wished for anything but the present reality that was a child persisting to be born from her body. A daughter who would suck new air into her tiny lungs and squall and scream at the coldness of the world. A responsibility. A task which Rey had no concept of how to approach. How could an orphan be expected to raise a child? Rey was the progeny of darkness, and darkness did not deal in such delicate things. 

She was crying then, fat hot tears streaking over her cheeks as she begged whatever powers there were to take the pain away from her. Thankfully, they answered. 

Blackness overtook her vision, and she was wound up in thick, strong arms. Her face was crushed into a broad chest, the scent of its owner was sharp and familiar and made her shudder. His hands cradled her lower back, and he whispered softly into her hair. 

“Hush, hush. No need to cry.” 

Rey heaved a sob into his chest. The pain was dissolved into echoes now, but she dared not open her watery eyes for fear that she would find herself alone once more, sequestered on the Falcon and deep into her labor. 

“I know it hurts,” Ben continued, his touch was fire over the bare skin of her arms. She knew if she looked to behold his face she would find him disfigured and scarred, but Rey did not care. She would take any Ben she could get. “It hurts so terribly, I know. But because of the pain I can finally share with you my secret, Rey.” 

“W-what?” She blubbered. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, grounding herself in his sturdy flesh. 

“I can tell you where to find me, but you have to promise you’ll bring the child with you.” 

“Anything,” Rey pleaded, sound muffled into his chest. “Anything to be with you.” 

She meant it, with every fiber of her being she meant it. Rey was so shattered and empty, she would give anything to soothe her wounded heart and be whole again. Only Ben Solo could offer her succor, he was the only remedy, the only one who might understand her pain. 

_The child._ He had said. Not _our child_, or _our girl_. And there was dark promise behind his voice, but Rey couldn’t bring herself to care. It was Ben, her Ben. Ben Solo who had given everything for her. She could forfeit this one, small thing for him. 

When he spoke again she could hear the pointed smile in his words. She wanted to raise her face, to see that smile plastered over his features as it had been on Exegol, but his broad hand at the back of her neck would not allow her to raise her head. 

“When you’re done laboring,” his breath was hot on her face as he tilted her chin upward. “Come find me on Korriban.” 

Rey nodded, unwilling to break from his gaze, fearing the loss of his touch. Her whole body ached and burned and somewhere far away she felt another wave of brutal contractions. But here in this nebulous void she could forget about all of those petty, mortal things. She could lose herself in the depths of Ben’s citrine eyes. Here she could pretend, and she could forget. 

She was not snapped back into reality until Maz Kanata’s small, stiff hand slapped clean and sharp across her face. 

Rey blinked away her confusion. She was in a small, hot, windowless room, laid out over a narrow, thin bed. She was covered in sweat, and she felt as though she had just run a hundred miles in the Jakku heat. The draft between her aching thighs suggested she was naked from the waist down. 

“Are you with me now?” Maz demanded, her brown eyes were anxious and exacting, “Do you hear me, Rey?”

“I— 

Rey struggled for words. Her throat was thick with fear and spit. The room began to spin slowly as reality came crashing in with the force of waves. She was reminded of the day long sandstorms that would swallow up her tiny home on Jakku. She remembered how she would hunker down and cover hear ears to quiet the wind’s howling, how she would pretend that everything was alright until the tumult passed and the twin suns shone their fiery faces once more.

But here the storm was her own body, and the promise of the sun was pressing through her womb, waiting to be born. And she could feel its heat razing through her. Force, could she feel it. It flamed from just beneath her breasts down past her knees. It rolled in waves of tension that wracked her body with increasing rhythm. 

Yes, Maz, She wanted to say. Yes I can hear you, now please make this pain stop. 

And though she could not speak, her eyes gave life to her agony. Maz gathered one of Rey’s balled fists and spoke to her softly, “It’s time to push, Rey. You’re giving birth and it’s time to push.”

Rey panted and glared down the swollen stretch of her body. She couldn’t see past her seizing stomach and yet her gaze turned fiery. After so many months it would be over, she would be free of this bodily burden. Just a few determined pushes and it could all end. 

Rey grit her teeth, biting down on a muffled scream as she bore all of her muscular control into her lower half. She burned and tore between her thighs and the thick scent of blood filled up the room as she did it again without prompting. Her pale, shaking hand had dropped from Maz’s grip and her nails ripped audibly into the thin, yellowing sheets as she snarled, shut her eyes, and _pushed_. 

“Good!” Maz urged her on and the small, alien attendants scurried around the small room with arms full of towels and buckets of water. 

Someone dabbed the sweat from her brow. Rey panted harshly, grinding her teeth as she worked up the fortitude to give one, final push. Her body was ahead of her as it seized up once more, all of her strength coiled up behind the tiny, imposing body of her child. Rey gasped, then let out one, final intemperate moan as she pushed with all of her might. She had never known such pain, but she had also never experienced such relief as the sudden rush and release between her legs. There was a wet sound, a gush of fluid, and suddenly it was over. 

Her body continued to push the afterbirth along, practically on its own. Rey hardly noticed, head thumping back into the pillows and lungs filling up with blood fouled air. The pain had passed, it was over, over, over. 

Then a tiny, hiccuping cry filled up the room. It was high and irritating when all Rey wanted was to shut her eyes and sleep. Perhaps her disinterest should have perturbed her, but she could not bring herself to care. 

“A girl,” she heard Maz say. There was some small amazement in the ancient’s voice, a subtle sort of awe that was untempered by age and time. New life was supposed to do that to people, Rey supposed. But she was wholly unaffected, even though the life in question had come forth from _her_ womb. 

“I know,” Rey rasped in response, throwing a sweaty forearm over her eyes to block out the dim light. 

“What will her name be?” Maz asked, softly, and Rey felt the weight of her tiny puce placed gently under her breast. She snuffled and cried softly into her mother’s skin, still wet with the fluids of childbirth. 

Rey gave no reply. It hardly mattered, did it? Did such a child need a name? Did she care enough to provide one? Already she was slipping away again, her vision blurring and darkening, her thoughts becoming thick and viscous. 

Now it was not darkness that threatened to swallow her up, but the plight of many new mothers before her. Fever, and deepset infection, aided by bodily weakness brought on in childbirth. 

Now Rey’s life was threatened by the oldest, and simplest of things. And as she was set adrift on the seas of fevered sleep, all she could grasp as real was a single word. A concept. A promise. 

_Korriban_.

⁎

Drifting, drifting, drifting. Ben drifted. Everything was still dark, though he could feel himself slowly growing in strength. Past the heavy seal of his eyelids there was a faint light, tinted pink by his intervening skin. When he curled his fingers experimentally, he swore he would feel something unyielding beneath them, if only for a moment.

The ache of the wounds that had covered his body lessened as time passed by unchecked, and Ben drifted and drifted and drifted, heart hammering with his regained memories, preoccupied with ceaseless thoughts of the woman called Rey. _His_ Rey, the claim was almost instinctual. Who else could she belong to when he belonged to her so thoroughly?

Then he remembered Luke, how he had loomed so forebodingly in the shattered entrance of that hut. Ben jolted against the blackness that restrained him, choking on fear and desperation. He needed to get to Rey, to know that she was unharmed. And something dark within his chest stirred with desire to destroy Luke Skywalker. 

“Show me!” He screamed into the void, demanding that owners of those infernal voices come and face his wrath.

_We must hurry, one of them answered, this one feminine and rushed. You must hurry and find yourself before it is too late._

“Then show me,” Ben demanded. “Show me what became of Kylo Ren.” 

_So be it_, a male voice replied, and Ben’s vision flashed white before it filled up with a memory of fire and bitter tears. 

“The fleet!” Rey’s voice echoed through the domed space. Beyond the wall-to-wall viewports stars glittered in the beyond. Closer by, over the hazy atmosphere of a white planet, a battle was unfolding. “Order them to stop firing! There’s still time to save the fleet!” 

Ben was overjoyed at the sight of her. She was strong and heart and whole. A tanned arm was extended towards the scene of the battle. 

_Of course,_ Ben wanted to say. _Anything for you_. But the man who possessed a voice in this memory was not him, but who he had once been. 

Kylo Ren ignored Rey, his eyes locked onto the halved body of his old master, Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber grasped in his fist. Around him fire rained down from the shambles of red curtains. A half dozen Praetorian guards lay slain and sundered around their feet. His doing, and Rey’s. Together they had conquered the greatest darkness in the galaxy, making way for something new. 

If Ben had possessed a voice he would have screamed at himself to turn and look at Rey, to be humbled by the power that rolled off of her in waves and to acquiesce to her demands. But Kylo’s mind was already formulating another plan, one where he would take Snoke’s throne and Rey would join him on it. He wanted a galaxy shaped by their hands, and no one else’s. Did they not deserve that after all they had suffered?

_What have you suffered?_ Ben snarled, voiceless. He still shuddered with the memory of Han’s death. Kylo was haunted, too, but not in the same way.

“Ben?” Rey asked, softer this time. The hope was waning from her voice. 

When Kylo finally raised his head to face her, Ben’s heart sank. She looked confused and afraid by what she saw in his expression. 

“That’s my old name.” 

“What?”

Kylo took a step towards her, heart brimming with sordid hope, “It’s time to let old things die. Rey, I want you to join me. Snoke, Skywalker, the Sith, the Jedi, the rebels? Let it all die. We can rule together and bring a new order to the galaxy.”

Rey jerked back, blinking and biting against emotion as she struggled with his words. She wanted Ben, but she was faced still with Kylo Ren. “Don’t do this, Ben. Please don’t go this way.” 

The tears brimming in her honey eyes were obvious, the way the flickering flames which surrounded them shone off of her irises made Ben’s chest seize up. Again, he was causing her pain. The most beautiful, perfect creature in the galaxy and he was unable to do anything but cause her harm. 

“You’re holding on,” Kylo’s voice quavered with frustration. “_Let go_.”

He advanced on her, but his approach wasn’t threatening. Still, Rey shrank away from him, mouth parted in disbelief. 

“Do you want to know the truth about your parents?” He asked. Ben wanted to shout in anger and Rey began to tremble, tears spilling over her lids. “Or have you always known? _Let it go_. You know the truth. Say it.” 

The knife was being driven deeper, twisted cruelly into Rey’s stomach as Kylo tried desperately to appeal to her. How could he not see the damage he was doing, the distrust he was sowing? How could he not see how he hurt her when he so obviously _loved_ her. 

“They were nobody,” her voice was barely a whisper, tears trekking over her cheeks in steady waves. 

“They were filthy junk traders who sold you off for drinking money. They’re dead in a pauper’s grave in the Jakku desert,” Kylo amended cruelly. If Ben could weep he would be sobbing along with Rey. It was demented, fucked up in a thousand different ways, how Kylo reached out to her by making her nothing, _less_ than nothing.

He was a pace away from her now, gloved fist flexing at his side as he made his final entreaty, “You have no place in this story. You come from nothing, you _are_ nothing,” His eyes went soft, voice feather light and shaking as he extended his hand between them. “_But not to me_. Join me… _please_.” 

And Ben was shocked to see that, for the barest of moments, Rey truly considered his offer. Her wet eyes lingered on his hand, and she swallowed thickly because whatever Kylo felt, she felt it, too. But also Rey was wise, and she understood that there existed a galaxy beyond herself, and Kylo, and that wretched throne room. 

So, as she raised her hand in false acceptance, Ben did not blame her. In fact, he lauded her for her bravery. And when she used the Force to yank the Skywalker lightsaber from Kylo Ren’s side he was awed by the fierceness of her beauty. She wore the visage of a warrior, teeth set in a dangerous grimace, unafraid as Kylo responded in turn and the hilt was suspended and quivering in the air between them. 

They were equals, Ben was awed to see. The strength of their Force signatures pushing each other back across the floor as they warred. 

He ignored Kylo’s resounding shock and agony. He ignored all the searing entitlement and paint that flared in the lost young man. He pushed it all aside in favor of watching Rey fight back with all of her willpower and might. 

And then Ben understood, just from watching them, the way each held the other at bay was enough for him to intuit the truth of the matter. They were two halves of a single being, locked forever in some cosmic dance which held them at arm's length from one another. He wondered passively, as they were both finally thrown back and the throne room erupted in blinding light, what might transpire if they were finally able to come together? If Kylo Ren were to return to the light, and Rey were to confront that darkness which had urged her to take his hand? 

The vision faded and he was suspended in the depths of his own personal purgatory once more. 

Perhaps you shall see soon enough, a male voice answered his question. You are remembering more than we had anticipated, perhaps balance will be restored yet. 

Let him rest, came another, softer tone. He has trials to come, and she needs him. 

“Who needs me?” Ben demanded sharply, but he already knew the answer. “Where is Rey now?! Stop showing me the past, I need to know the present!” 

He received no answer as he struggled against nothing. Rey was still alive, then? These memories weren’t some ancient bygone, but the recent past? Could he reach her? Did she need his help? 

For once the voices did not force him into slumber, rather they allowed him to worry himself back into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did choose to remake a Twitter, and now that I'm more stable on a new med regimen its much more fun. I mostly just make silly jokes and post pictures of my plants, but I also share updates and excerpts there as well! 
> 
> Here's the link!: [X](https://twitter.com/bitt3rbones)


	16. Precipice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow its been a while. I did remake my Twitter, check the end notes for a link. I'm in a much better place mentally now. 
> 
> **Note**: I changed to format to something a little easier to maintain. Sorry if the change is jarring, but I was getting tired of the old one.

When Rey opened her eyes again she was still in that tiny, hot room. Nearby she could hear the gentle, steady breathing of her daughter. Her body wasn’t so swollen anymore, but she was unbearably hot. A thin sheen of sticky sweat seemed to coat her whole body, plastering the sheets to her skin. She was nauseous and her head throbbed. Her breasts were heavy and uncomfortable. 

She panted, remembering. 

_ Korriban _ . 

Ben was waiting for her. 

Dizzily she slid her bare feet over the side of the thin mattress. The floor was jarringly cold under her soles. She stumbled around the room, slowly and methodically collecting her clothing. Dark grey robes and a black cowl to hide her face. 

A shaft of golden light shone in through the crack in the thin wooden door, and beyond that she could hear the usual hustle and bustle of the bar. 

The baby made a sniffing sound and Rey froze. For a long moment she simply stared at the crib, still not believing that she had pushed that thing  _ out _ of herself. She crept forward a step, and then another, and another until she loomed over the sleeping child. She cast a long, dark shadow over the baby’s peaceful face. 

Fever burned behind her eyes, clouding her thoughts. But she knew Ben would want the baby, so she tore her bedsheet in half and fashioned a sling which she tied around her shoulders. Then she scooped up the sleeping child and placed her inside. 

A name. 

The child still didn’t have a name. 

Rey didn’t care. She’d never cared about anything less. All she wanted,  _ needed _ was to get to Korriban. To Ben. 

Weak and stumbling, she shoved through the door and out into a shadowy hallway. It was open air, and the fronds of large native plants brushed her hot, too-tight skin as she passed. 

The baby continued to snore. Rey noted how small she was, and the thatch of black hair on the crown of her head. For a brief moment she wondered what color her eyes might be. 

_ Distraction _ , a vile voice hissed into her skull, and she stopped for a moment, bending slightly forward. She listened with bated breath, wanting guidance through her fever, through the minefield that was new motherhood in a scarred galaxy. 

_ Korriban. _ Was all it said.  _ Korriban, Korriban, Korriban _ . 

It became like a poisonous mantra in Rey’s head. Over and over. Korriban. Korriban. Korriban.

By the time she stumbled, sweaty and wan faced into the main bar she was chanting it under her breath, “ _ Korriban, Korriban, Korriban _ .” 

Maz stared at her from behind the bar, halted midway through drying a pint glass. 

Rey looked around and the room began to spin. She felt hotter than ever, her body was on fire and a shooting pain was emanating from her vagina. She was dying. Her mortal body was bending and failing beneath the weight of postpartum infection. 

_ Take _ , a voice willed, and she knew what it meant.  _ Take and make yourself whole again. _

It was innate within her, the power she used next. She seized the nearest patron by his throat. That he happened to be a Crolute had nothing to do with anything. And through her fingers she began to leech his life away. At first it was only a trickle, just enough to dull his eyes and curb his struggle. Then it was like a flood, his skin began to dry and crack. His eyes bulged and his tongue protruded from his mouth. Blood vessels burst under his skin in a patchwork of black and blue. His limbs bent in strange directions and his spine curved forward, so he curled up like a dying insect. 

Rey took from him until her body was whole again. Fever gone. Womb healed. At her breast the baby began to stir, making soft snuffling noises of dissatisfaction. 

She dropped the husk that had once been a Crolute. Letting the dry, boney remnants roll across the floor. The entire Castle had fallen silent. Maz dropped the glass she had been drying and it shattered on the floor, splitting through the eerie quiet. 

_ Vampire _ , one of the voices laughed joyously.  _ Killer, _ joked another. 

Perhaps that was all she was now, all she could be without her other half alive and beside her. She had become a dark thing. A twisted thing. But she could not bring herself to give a modicum of care. 

“ _ Rey _ ,” Maz balked, but Rey didn’t hear her. Rey didn’t  _ want  _ to hear her. 

Yellow eyes flashing, strength restored, her next goal was the  _ Millenium Falcon _ . 

“Rey, stop!” Maz shouted, but when the little woman moved to stand in Rey’s path, the dark Jedi raised a hand and locked her in place, seizing the very lungs in her chest with a twist of the Force. 

Maz’s eyes bulged, and she twitched in the air as the Castle’s patrons watched on speechless and too terrified to act. She made small, choking noises as she gulped down air, but her lungs would not expand to receive it. 

“When I drop you,” Rey spoke smooth and gentle, but her citrine eyes belied all of that feigned softness. “You will tell me where the  _ Falcon _ is. You will not follow me. You will not try to stop me, or I will kill you.” 

Rey twisted her hand in the air, tightening her hold over Maz painfully before she released the alien entirely and she crumpled into a heap on the stone floor. The Force manipulation took a moment to sink in, Maz Kanata had a strong mind. The baby began to cry softly. 

“In… in a clearing to the… the north,” Maz panted, fingers still clawing at her throat like she couldn’t get enough air. 

Rey swept from the room without another word, ignoring the cries of her infant as she stepped out into the humid, jungle air. The treetops swayed in a cool breeze which preceded the dark thunderheads rolling in the distance. Rey watched lightning flash violet within their depths, and she knew as her fingertips tingled that she could easily master such a power. She had already used it once, what seemed like ages before, on a desert world while her lost love watched on. How he had stood in awe of her power. 

The baby let out a blood curdling wail, and touching her mind Rey discerned that she was hungry. 

“ _ Hush _ ,” she waved two fingers over the baby’s head, and she immediately fell quiet, putting two of her tiny fingers into her mouth. 

She would nurse the child once they were safely in hyperspace. 

Rey could hear the rising volume in the Castle behind her as the patrons rallied themselves. She only rolled her eyes and began to make her way north, she could already see the  _ Falcon _ waiting for her in a field of tourmaline grass. 

Inside it was untouched, waiting for her arrival. 

The baby snorted, big, dark eyes peering up at her mother hungrily. They were her father’s eyes. Everything about the baby was an echo of Ben. Her hair, her ears, the color of her eyes and the paleness of her skin. 

Rey might have cried because of it, were she not already an open wound. 

“I’ll feed you soon,” Rey said as she slid into the pilots chair, fingers brushing over the controls. She felt renewed, invigorated by the life she had taken. Something dark and wild was pumping through her veins, propelling her forwards towards her destiny. 

“I’m coming, Ben,” She said as she brought the  _ Falcon _ into the air. She would get into space, then she would find the coordinates for Korriban. 

Through the canopy she could see figures racing towards where the  _ Falcon _ had been kept. Maz was among them, her skin a stark orange against the green landscape. Rey smiled down at them tauntingly, though they could not see her face, then she punched the controls and sent the ship barreling towards the atmosphere. 

The ship jerked and the baby made a small noise as Rey’s shoulders were thrust back against the seat. 

“Easy,” she whispered, and her half gloved fingers brushed the whisps of her daughter’s dark hair. 

As they enter the inky, dark depths of space over Takodana, Rey found herself conflicted over how exactly she was meant to feel about the child. There was no room left in her rendered chest for unconditional love, but she had  _ carried _ the child for nine months. She had nourished the little girl from the wellspring of her body. She didn’t resent the child, necessarily. But neither did she feel particularly maternal or protective. She had only brought the infant along because Ben had told her to. 

“We’re going to see your daddy,” she crooned softly at the infant as she fiddled with the hyperdrive. They would be a family. Once she found Ben it would all sink in. She would feel like a mother, and he would be a father, and they would have their baby… who didn’t have a name. 

Rey paused and stared at the child for a moment, willing some name to pass her lips. But none came. Not a thought passed through her mind. She simply didn’t care enough to name the baby, not yet, at least. 

“Sorry, kid,” she mumbled, then frowned as she failed to locate any planet called Korriban in the  _ Falcon _ ’s databases. 

“What the fuck?” She hissed. 

Outside, over the glittering blue and verdant green of Takodana, ships were beginning to pepper the sky. They were composed of many makes and models, and Rey had no doubt that Maz had enlisted her patrons to take to the skies. 

“Shit,” Rey slammed her hand into the hyperdrive. “ _ Shit! _ ”

The baby began to cry again, hungry and sensing her mother’s displeasure. 

Rey glanced around the cockpit, looking for some solution, but finding none. There was no way she could engage all of those ships in combat, she couldn’t man the gun and the controls simultaneously. 

She raked a hand through her hair. Then she looked within, into the darkness that pooled in her chest.  _ Where do I go? _

For a long moment there was only silence, but then, through the darkness came Ben’s voice, timbre low and calming on her ears,  _ Coruscant. The temple holds the answers you seek.  _

Coruscant. Rey had heard of Coruscant before. It had once housed the galactic senate, and the Jedi temple. It was a ruin now. The entire glittering metropolis abandoned during the war, replaced by the now defunct Hosnian system. 

Eager, Rey punched the coordinates into the hyperdrive and mother and child were off in a blur of blue. 

⁎

He almost felt awake, drifting through that blackness. There were spots of light, patches of color that occupied much of his attention and time. Rey was constantly on his mind. He remembered their power interlocked, clashing before the throne of Snoke who was rent in two. 

He remembered the saber splitting, the light that had burst from it. He remembered how they were evenly matched in light and darkness, but who was which? There had been something in Rey, in her beautiful hazel eyes that had hinted at something darker lurking within her. He had sensed her anger, and her anguish, and all he wanted to do was  _ go to her _ . 

But this place would not allow him to leave. The  _ voices _ would not allow him to leave. He had identified four distinct voices. Two male, two female, but that was all that he could discern. 

Now that his eyes were open, and he was drifting in that dreamless dark, he spoke; “What next? Give me your next test, I’m ready for it.” 

_ Is he ready?  _ One of the males asked. 

_ I do think so.  _ Said a female voice. 

_ You’re nearing the end now _ , an older, wiser male told him. 

The end. If he was nearing the end that meant he was closer than ever to Rey, to finding her, to apologizing for every twisted thing he had ever done, to taking her into his arms and… and… he remembered the baby. The field of flowers and the little girl growing under Rey’s breast. 

His desperation soared. 

“Please, I’m ready. Show me.” 

They said nothing, but the darkness began to churn and take on a new shape. The pallet was watery greens and dreary blues. It was raining, and Kylo Ren was soaked through to the bone. There was a tear in his tunic, and on his side a fresh, pink scar. He remembered that Rey had struck him. He remembered that Rey had  _ healed _ him, and told him that she had wanted to take his hand. That she would have taken  _ Ben’s _ hand. 

In that moment Kylo Ren had wanted nothing more than to die. To become Ben Solo again, for her, for Rey. But he didn’t know how. 

Now he stood alone amidst the wreckage of the fallen Death Star, on Kef Bir, a watery moon of Endor. Grave of countless souls. 

He watched the water roll and churn, dark and secretive. 

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was empty, lost and alone. Ben had never before felt such empathy for his shadow, this spectre of his former self. 

“Ben,” there came a voice from behind him, and Kylo Ren turned. The rain all at once seemed to stop, and there, amidst the drear and rust, stood the ghost of Han Solo. 

Ben was nearly jolted out of the memory, shocked by the presence of his own father. For a moment he remembered those warm, rough hands. He remembered being swept off of his feet and carried across fields of wildflowers. He remembered his father and a wave of guilt overcame him. 

Perhaps this was the moment where Kylo Ren truly died. Perhaps the guilt would overtake him and he would simply fall onto his own saber, and both he and Ben would be extinguished. 

“Ben,” Han Solo said again. His eyes were deep and intense, and he seemed to shake with emotion. 

Kylo Ren swallowed thickly, and he too was shaking, lip quivering, overcome by guilt and grief. “I know what I have to do,” he pleaded, voice small, like a child’s, “but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” 

Han was silent for a long, painful beat, then he extended an old, tired hand. He cupped his son’s chin, skin warm and reassuring,  _ forgiving _ . 

“ _ You do _ ,” he said with a knowing smirk. 

Kylo watched his father for a long moment, reluctant to look away for fear that he would vanish. He lifted his saber from his side, a morbid echo of past action.

“Dad...” but he couldn’t speak further, a choking sound emitted from his throat. 

Ben held his breath as the scene unfolded. 

Han took an inching step closer to his son, and nodded his head, understanding how sorry his boy was, understanding how lost and confused he had been. Han Solo understood how his boy had been neglected, and poisoned, taken away and brutalized at the hands of Snoke. Han Solo, for the first time in his existence, truly understood his son, and he told him so. He forgave him with two, easy words, “I know.” 

Abruptly Kylo turned spinning and hurling his lightsaber out and into the waves of Bef Kir, drowned forever in the deep and dark. And when he turned back Han Solo had vanished. But he was forgiven. He didn’t have to pretend any longer. 

Rey needed him. 

The darkness took Ben Solo once more, but for once he was left with a distinct sensation of relief. He was one with himself again, absolved and brought back from the brink of total destruction. 

Surely that was it. Surely that had been the end. Surely he could return to his Rey now, and their baby, wherever they were. 

_ Not yet _ , the wizened male voice said.  _ There is one more _ . 

_ One more _ , a woman’s voice echoed. 

“Show me now,” Ben begged. “Please, no more sleeping. Something must be very wrong for this to be happening. Rey is in danger, I know it.” 

The voices seemed to take a moment to think before they answered, three at once. Two males and a female. 

_ Then look _ .  _ See the moment of your own demise. _

Around Ben Solo the darkness began to take on new, terrible shapes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Rey is going to feed the baby. Next chap. 
> 
> New Twitter, follow for fic stuff: [X](https://twitter.com/bitt3rbones)

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [Link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/sordidbones)
> 
> Twitter: [Link](https://twitter.com/bitt3rbones)


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